


The De-Aged Doctor and the Order of the Phoenix

by Whovian101



Series: The De-Aged Doctor [5]
Category: Doctor Who, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-05-17 08:30:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 68,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14828870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whovian101/pseuds/Whovian101
Summary: The Doctor and Jack get hit with a de-aging gun, so they wait at Hogwarts until they can be re-aged





	1. Prologue

_The Doctor and Captain Jack Harkness sprinted across the room, trying to escape the gun blast. The Doctor wrenched the blue TARDIS door open, he and Jack diving in, but they were still caught in the blast. The Doctor rushed to his lab as he began mixing some complicated and ever changing chemical substance that Jack couldn’t understand at all. Jack felt the Doctor inject something into him when he wasn’t looking, than visibly injected himself with the same substance. “Doc?” Jack shouted over the ringing in his ears, he felt the room tip, and he dropped to the floor, and the last thing he saw was the Doctor, but not the Doctor as he was, the Doctor as Jack had first seen him, with his big ears and Northern accent, he called,_

_“Just relax Jack.” and the world went silent._


	2. Eleven Years Old

When Jack woke up, he laying on his back and was on the floor atop a bunch of familiar fabric. He saw a small face look down at him, it was a boy, just about eleven years old, with pale blue-green eyes and soft-looking brown hair, “You alright Jack?” His high pitched voice asked kindly,

“What?” Jack didn’t know this boy. The boy had seemed to expect this, and handed him a silver-rimmed mirror, and Jack looked inside it. He stared at the small, brown haired, eleven year-old boy who was looking back at him,

“It was a de-ageing gun they hit us with.” The boy sighed, as if given a minor inconvenience, not been aged down a few hundred years, Jack almost fell down the ramp,

“Doctor!” Jack came to the realization of whom the boy was,

“What?” The boy turned,

“Nothing- Just- wow.” The Doctor laughed, but it came out as more of a giggle, which made it hard to take him seriously.

“The TARDIS isn’t happy with all this, too many paradoxes, she’s taking us somewhere to camouflage us in.” The Doctor informed him, and Jack just nodded, still in shock.

“What are we going to do?” Jack asked, clearly concerned,

“I injected you with a substance, but I it was diluted. I needed to do it quickly, but it was rushed. For the meantime, I can’t fly the TARDIS, which is made for six people, with this small child body.” The Doctor said, sounding frustrated for the first time since this began,

“So, where are we?” Jack asked when the shaking in the TARDIS stopped, indicating that the TARDIS had landed them. The Doctor bounded to the door and pulled it open, then got slapped in the face with two letters. He closed the door and handed one to Jack, the envelope read:

  
_Mr. J. Harkness_

_Control Room_

_TARDIS_

 

Jack opened it to find a long letter that read;

 

_**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry** _

_**Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore** _

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Mr. Harkness,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term Begins on 1 September. We await your owl.._

_Yours sincerely,_

_**Minerva McGonagall** _

_**Deputy Headmistress** _

 

Jack gaped at the Doctor as he calmly read his letter, then Jack looked at the supply list it came with;

 

_**First-year students will require:** _

_**Uniform:** _

_Three sets of plain work robes (Black)_

_One plain pointed hat for day wear (Black)_

_One Pair of protective gloves (Dragonhide or similar)_

_One winter cloak (Black, silver fastenings)_

_**Please note that all student’s clothes should carry name-tags at all times.** _

_**Books:** _

_The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1 by Miranda Goshawk_

_A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot_

_Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling_

_A Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch_

_One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore_

_Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger_

_Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander_

_The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble_

_**Other Equipment:** _

_1 Wand_

_1 Caldron (pewter, standard size 2)_

_1 set of glass or crystal phials_

_1 telescope_

_1 set of brass scales_

_Students may also bring an Owl, a Cat, or a Toad._

_**PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS** _

 

The Doctor laughed, then turned to Jack, grinned, then pulled a lever on the TARDIS and a fountain of foreign coins fell into a pouch he held under it. “So, are we doing this then?” Jack asked as the Doctor handed him his own pouch of gold coins, the Doctor laughed,

“I’ll send the TARDIS to the Hogwarts grounds so she’ll be there if we need her.” The TARDIS’ hum changed a little, and Jack heard the Doctor murmuring, “No, come on, please. Stop it. We both know that’s a bad idea. But what if-, yes, I know. But after all-, I know but-, fine.” He turned back to Jack, “The TARDIS insists that she’s going to wait three days once we get to school to land. She wants us to ‘settle in’.” The Doctor rolled his eyes,

“Why are we getting settled in?” Jack asked, “Aren’t we just going to go, make the formula for re-aging, then leave?”

“It’s not as simple as that.” The Doctor sighed, “I did inject the formula to re-age us, but because it was so diluted, it’s going to take a time. Just about a school year.” Jack nodded, disappointed.

“Plus, we will need to fit in. Imagine if anyone figured out who we were.”

“Ianto would have a laughing fit.” Jack murmured, suddenly missing the man fiercely,

“Not to mention that we’d be studied and examined and probably experimented on.” The Doctor rolled his eyes, then said, “Grab a trunk of stuff and meet me back here. You’ll need different clothing,” He said, and Jack nodded, ready to get out of these now enormous clothes, “There’s some in the wardrobe that should fit, and anything sentimental you should leave in the TARDIS, she’ll keep it safe.” The Doctor affectionately patted the TARDIS. Jack nodded and the two boys sprinted off.

Probably an hour later, Jack and The Doctor met in the console room, each with a trunk with a shimmering gold-plated name on there, Jack’s had _Jack Harkness_ , and the Doctor had his false name, _John Smith_ on his. They looked at each other, ready to go.

“Alright, alright. I know. I’ll come see you in a few days when you materialize. I know.” The Doctor was stroking the TARDIS as they left, “Allons-y Jack.” He said. Jack rolled his eyes. The Doctor watched sadly as the TARDIS dematerialized, then started grumbling in a language that Jack didn’t understand, but assumed was Gallifreyan,

“You do know I can’t understand you, right?” Jack said,

“That’s what I was saying!” The Doctor said dramatically, “Now that the  is a few days ahead of us, I have to speak English!” Jack rolled his eyes,

“Oh the agony.” He said sarcastically, The Doctor grinned and lead him into a small pub at the corner called ‘The Leaky Cauldron” that he assumed had a perception filter so it would be disguised, they walked in,

“We’d like a bedroom until September 1st.” The Doctor announced to the man at the desk, the man nodded,

“Are your parents here or are you alone?”

“We’re alone.” The Doctor answered, relieved that being alone didn’t seem unusual. The man had them lead to a bedroom, and the Doctor and Jack decided to leave their trunks and head to Diagon Alley.


	3. Diagon Alley

Normally you couldn’t get into the alley without wand, but the Doctor used his Sonic Screwdriver to redistribute the bricks. A large doorway opened in front of them, and they rushed out into the alley. It was magnificent, there were so many stores, so much to do. They decided a wand took first priority, then they’d get their robes, than their other items, but books would have to wait for last because they both knew the Doctor would spend the longest in the book store. They headed for the wand shop, but Jack suddenly stopped,

“Jack?” The Doctor looked at his immortal friend,

“Doctor, we’re not wizards.”

“Don’t be ridiculous Jack.” The Doctor rolled his eyes, “Here, take this.” The Doctor handed Jack a chemical substance. Raising an eyebrow, he drank it in one gulp.

“Okay, so what was that?” Jack asked,

“All wizards are, are normal humans with a small psychic field. By the 51st century, where you’re from, they’ve all mated with muggles and their psychic field has been dramatically reduced.”

“And you already have the psychic field, because you’re a Time Lord, so you don’t need any elixir.” Jack concluded,

“Yep, be it, mine is much more sensitive than theirs, they only have a tiny milligram of what I’ve got, but that’s basically it. And what I gave you just increased your sensitivity a bit.” Jack nodded, and they continued on their way to the wand shop. Jack was incredibly excited, feeling like the excited little kid he looked like. They walked into the shop, and the Doctor and Jack walked up to the counter. Jack went first, He was handed a wand, and Ollivander said,

“Oakwood, Phoenix core, 10 inches,” the moment it touched Jack’s hands it sent a jet and broke a lamp, “No, no, no, no!” He handed him another, then whisked it away, it only took a few tries before Jack was smiling as his new wand. It was Firwood with a Dragon heartstring core and was 12½ inches long. Jack dropped the coins he owed into Mr. Ollivander’s hands, then grabbed the Doctor’s small hand and pushed him in front of the man.

The Doctor went through a lot more wands then Jack did. It was made especially difficult because the Doctor was ambidextrous, meaning he had twice as many options. Finally, a wand of Maplewood, with Phoenix core, and was 10 inches. The Doctor seemed content with this and smiled, at Ollivander, “What does it represent?” Ollivander seemed shocked that such a little boy was asking this,

“Well, Maplewood tends to choose wizards who are by nature travellers and explorers. They prefer an ambitious wizards who like fresh challenges and regular changes of scene. It is a beautiful and desirable wood because of its reputation as the wand of high achievers.” The Doctor nodded,

“What about the Phoenix core?” Mr. Ollivander seemed quite pleased with the Doctor’s curiosity and desire to learn,

“The Phoenix core is the rarest core. They are capable of the greatest range of magic. They show the most initiative qualities  and sometimes act on their own accord. It is hard to win their allegiance.” The Doctor nodded, understanding,

“And the length, does that have something to do with height?” Mr. Ollivander seemed overjoyed,

“It does!” He exclaimed, “Judging by your wand size, you will most likely be 5’8. The Doctor nodded, knowing that was the height of his first body when it was fully grown,

“And what about Jack’s wand?” He asked, Jack was in his chair twirling his wand of boredom, just wanting to go explore more of Diagon Alley.

“He has Firwood, which is known as ‘the survivor’s wand’ because it comes from the most resilient of trees.” The Doctor almost laughed, he looked at Jack with an amused look, he just rolled his eyes, of course he got the one that represented immortality. “And his core was Dragon heartstring, which tend to produce the wands with the most power and are capable of the most flamboyant spells. They tend to learn quickly, but it tends to be the easiest to turn to the Dark Arts, so be careful.” Mr. Ollivander warned darkly, “It also seems the most prone to accidents and is somewhat temperamental.” The Doctor nodded, finally noticing Jack’s impatience,

“I think my friend and I are going to go, thank you.”

“Of course.” Mr. Ollivander, in a seemingly more happy mood then he had been when they came in.

“That took forever.” Jack grumbled,

“Sorry.” The Doctor murmured sarcastically, “I was interested.”

“I know.” Jack said apologetically, “Maybe it’s the kid hormones. The Doctor nodded,

“It might be. I don’t actually know how this will affect us hormonally.”

“That’s new, you not knowing something.” Jack grinned,

“Well, believe it or not, this has never actually happened to me before.” The Doctor said,

They walked into the robe shop to get fitted. They were fitted and paid for their new robes, then headed to various shops, picking up their cauldrons, dragon hide gloves, crystal phials, telescopes, and brass scales. It was getting late by the time they finished, so they decided to finish shopping the next morning, and returned to the Leaky Cauldron and the Doctor passed out on the bed. Jack laid down on the other side of the bed.

When Jack saw the Doctor the next morning, they went down to the bookstore, and found the required textbooks, and more. The Doctor found an incredible amount of books, with more advanced subjects than Jack could fathom. They returned to their bedroom that night, prepared for the train ride to school tomorrow. By ten at night, Jack said he was going to bed, he looked at the Doctor who was reading all the books he’d gotten. “I’m going to bed. You coming?” he asked,

“No.” The Doctor responded, I may be a kid, but I’m still a Time Lord. I only need a few hours of sleep.” Jack shrugged,

“Whatever you want.” He then smiled, “Save some books for school.” He laughed at the Time Lord, the Doctor grinned,

“I’ll keep that in mind.”


	4. The Sorting Hat's Song

The next morning came and Jack and the Doctor pulled their trunks to Kings Cross Station. The Doctor strode confidently to the wall between platforms 9 and 10. “Allons-y!” He sprinted into the wall. Jack watched, stunned, as the Doctor’s small figure disappeared. He began to walk, then jog, then he was running, at a wall he could tell was solid. He shut his eyes. He peaked them open when the impact with the wall that he had been expecting didn’t happen. He gazed around, he was on a new platform, with a big train labeled; HOGWARTS EXPRESS sat. His eyes rested on a bemused Doctor. “Are you going to stand there all day?” The Doctor asked, pulling Jack out of the way as another couple people ran through the barrier. They stepped onto the train, and found a tall, dark-haired, fifteen-year-old boy, talking to two other kids, a ginger boy and a frizzy-haired girl, presumably his friends,

“Er,” the ginger boy was saying, exchanging a look with the girl,

“We’re – well – Ron and I are supposed to go into the prefect carriage.” The girl said awkwardly,

“Oh, the dark haired boy said, “Right. Fine.”

“I don’t think we’ll have to stay three all journey,” said the girl quickly, “Our letters said we just get instructions from the Head Boy and Girl and then patrol the corridors from time to time.”

“Fine,” The boy said again, “Well, I-I might see you later, then.”

“Yeah, definitely.” Ron said, “It’s a pain having to go down there, I’d rather – but we have to – I mean, I’m not enjoying it, I’m not Percy,”

“Come on,” A girl who looked a little younger than the three of them, said pulling the boy along with her, “If we get a move on we’ll be able to save them places.”

“Right.” The boy said. The Doctor and Jack followed the two of them, joining them in a compartment,

“Can we join you?” The Doctor asked,

“Sure.” The girl said happily, “I’m Ginny.”

“I’m John.” The Doctor shook the girl’s hand,

“Captain Jack Harkness.” Jack winked at Ginny,

“Stop it!” The Doctor called to the boy,

“I’m Harry.” The other boy said, “Are you two first years?”

“Yes.” The Doctor confirmed, “What about you?”

“I’m a fifth year, and Ginny’s a fourth year.”

“Pleasure.” The Doctor sat down and stuck his nose back into his Transfiguration Textbook; _A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration_.

“That’s a seventh year book.” Ginny gasped, causing Harry to turn to the Doctor,

“Very observant of you.” The Doctor replied, he was silent for a moment, then jumped up, “Jack! I’ve figured it out!”

“What?” Jack looked curiously at the Doctor,

“Transfiguration!” He grinned, “At first I thought is was impossible, because it breaks the law of conservation of mass, but actually it’s taking the quantum–”

“English.” Jack reminded him,

“It hacks reality.” The Doctor smiled, “It’s not turning something into something else , it’s about imagining the one thing has always been the other thing. It’s literally going into the code of the universe and rewriting it according to your imagination!” Jack shrugged and turned to Harry and Ginny,

“I swear I only understand have the stuff he says.”

“He should meet Hermione.” Ginny pointed out to Harry, “They’d have a good time.” Unsure who Hermione was, the Doctor placed down the now-useless book. “Do you have any family who’s been to Hogwarts before?” Ginny asked,

“Nope.” The Doctor said, popping the ‘p’. Jack shook his head,

“So you’re Muggle-born?”

“Er – Jack is. I’m not.”

“Oh, what are you then?”  
“Pure-blood I would expect.”

“Oh, what wizarding school did your parents go to.”

“Oh, I dunno.” The Doctor shrugged, unsure how to respond.

“Can’t you ask them?” Harry asked,

“Nope.” The Doctor gave a sad smile, “They’re not really around to ask.”

“Are you an orphan?” Harry asked,

“Yes I am. Jack is too.” Jack smiled,

“I am as well.” Harry said, “What happened, if you don’t mind me asking.”

“A war invaded my homeland.” Jack admitted, Harry, Ginny, and Jack turned to the Doctor,

“Oh, you don’t want to hear about me, what about your families?” The Doctor asked, “What happened to your parents?”

“My parents were killed by Lord Voldemort.” Harry said,

“Oh, Harry Potter then, I expect.”

“Yeah.”

“And what about you, Ginny?”

“I’ve got a huge family.” Ginny laughed, “There’s seven of us. We’ve got Bill, he’s already graduated, working with goblins at Gringotts. Then there’s Charlie, he’s in Romania studying dragons. After him we’ve got Percy. He’s a snob. He’s in his sixth year at Hogwarts. Then, there’s Fred and George, they’re twins, jokesters of the family. This is their seventh year. Then Ron’s in his fifth year, he’s a prefect this year. Then there’s me. It’s my fourth year.”

The train pulled to a stop, and they all grabbed their belongings. A tall woman was calling out, “First years! Please order yourselves here! First years!” The Doctor and Jack walked up to her, joining the rest of the gathering first years. They took some large boats across the lake.

The Doctor was up against the side of the boat, looking in at the water at the luminescent creatures underneath, when a girl in their boat asked, “What house do you think you’ll be in?”

“Ravenclaw?” The Doctor said, knowing it was more wishful thinking,

“You’re totally going to be a Gryffindor and you know it.” Jack said, “I’ll probably be a Slytherin.” The Doctor shrugged,

“What do you think you’ll be in?” He asked the girl,

“My whole family has been Gryffindor, so I probably will be too, so we probably won’t be able to hang out.” She addressed Jack, “But we can.” She smiled at the Doctor,

“Why not Jack?” The Doctor asked,

“We don’t mingle with Slytherins.” She laughed,

“That’s a shame.” He said. The girl smiled until the Doctor said, “I thought you’d be a good friend.” Her face fell,

“What?” She asked, confused. The Doctor didn’t respond to her and was silent the rest of the ride.

All the first years were taken up a staircase and stood in front of a large door. “This is Professor McGonagall.” The woman informed them,

“Thank you, Wilhelmina. I will take them from here.” A woman smiled, she was an older woman, probably sixty or seventy, with long emerald green robes, and a tall black pointed hat. “Welcome to Hogwarts.” She said, “The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your Houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your House will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your House, sleep in your House dormitory, and spend free time in your House common-room.

“The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each House has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your House points, while any rule-breaking will lose House points. At the end of the year, the House with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever House becomes yours.

“The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting.” She gave a smile, then said, “I shall return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly.” There was a lot of whispering, and all of a sudden, a couple people screamed as twenty pearly-white transparent ghosts flew in.

“Evolution of the gelth.” The Doctor whispered to Jack who nodded,

“New students!” A large monk-like ghost wearing a ruff and tights exclaimed, “I’m the Fat Friar! I hope to see you in Hufflepuff!”

“Move along now! The Sorting Ceremony is about to begin.” Professor McGonagall returned and the ghosts dispersed. “Now form a line and follow me.” She said she pulled open the large door and stepped into the Great Hall. The room was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables where the rest of the students were sitting. The ceiling was to high to make out, presumably enchanted to reflect the sky. Most kids were in awe, but the Doctor and Jack looked at each other, and laughed, having seen much more than these kids. They followed Professor McGonagall across the floor, looking around at all of the students. They stood in a line as Professor McGonagall stepped forwards with large scroll of parchment. Next to her on a stool was a brown, patched, frayed, old, hat. Suddenly, through a rip in the hat that resembled a mouth, it began to sing:

 

_In times of old when I was new_

_And Hogwarts barely started_

_The founders of our noble school_

_Thought never to be parted:_

_United by a common goal,_

_They had the selfsame yearning,_

_To make the world’s best magic school_

_And pass along their learning,_

_“Together we will build and teach!”_

_The four good friends decided_

_And never did they dream that they_

_Might someday be divided,_

_For were there such friends anywhere_

_As Slytherin and Gryffindor?_

_Unless it was the second pair_

_Of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw?_

_So how could it have gone so wrong?_

_How could such friendships fail?_

_Why, I was there and so can tell_

_The whole sad, sorry tale._

_Said Slytherin, “We’ll teach just those_

_Whose ancestry is purest.”_

_Said Ravenclaw, “We’ll teach those whose_

_Intelligence is surest.”_

_Said Gryffindor, “We’ll teach all those_

_With brave deeds to their name,”_

_Said Hufflepuff, “I’ll teach the lot,_

_And treat them just the same.”_

_These differences caused little strife_

_When first they came to light,_

_For each of the four founders had_

_A House in which they might_

_Take only those they wanted, so,_

_For instance, Slytherin_

_Took only pure-blood wizards_

_Of great cunning, just like him,_

_And only those of sharpest mind_

_Were taught by Ravenclaw_

_While the bravest and the boldest_

_Went to daring Gryffindor._

_Good Hufflepuff, she took the rest,_

_And taught them all she knew,_

_Thus the Houses and their founders_

_Retained friendship firm and true._

_So Hogwarts worked in harmony_

_For several happy years,_

_But then discord crept among us_

_Feeding on our faults and fears._

_The Houses that, like pillars four,_

_Had once held up our school,_

_Now turned upon each other and,_

_Divided, sought to rule._

_And for a while it seemed the school_

_Must meet an early end,_

_What with dueling and with fighting_

_And the clash of friend on friend_

_And at last there came a morning_

_When old Slytherin departed_

_And though the fighting then died out_

_He left us quite downhearted._

_And never since the founders four_

_Were whittled down to three_

_Have the Houses been united_

_And they once were meant to be._

_And now the Sorting Hat is here_

_And you all know the score:_

_I sort you into Houses_

_Because that’s what I’m for,_

_But this year I’ll go further,_

_Listen closely to my song:_

_Though condemned I am to split you_

_Still I worry that it’s wrong,_

_Though I must fulfill my duty_

_And must quarter every year_

_Still I wonder whether sorting_

_May not bring the end I fear._

_Oh, know the perils, read the signs,_

_The warning history shows,_

_For our Hogwarts is in danger_

_From external, deadly foes_

_And we must unite inside her_

_Or we’ll crumble from within._

_I have told you, I have warned you…_

_Let the Sorting now begin._

 

The hat became motionless once more; applause broke out, though it was punctured with muttering and whispers. All across the Great Hall, students were exchanging remarks with their neighbors.

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat and said, “When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted.” She adjusted her scroll,

“Abercrombie, Euan.” A terrified-looking boy stumbled forward and put the hat on his head; it was only prevented from falling right down to his shoulders by his very prominent ears. The hat considered for a moment, then the rip near the brim opened again and shouted,

“GRYFFINDOR!”

“Atkin, René.” A short boy slowly approached the hat, sat on the bench, and placed it on his head. The Hat seemed to think for a moment, then cried out,

“RAVENCLAW!” The Ravenclaw table erupted in applause. The boy smiled a nervous, but pleased smile, and made his way to the Ravenclaw table.

“Allen, Silver.” Another boy stepped up, head held high,

“RAVENCLAW!” He jumped up, handing the hat back to Professor McGonagall,

“Bev, Bailey.” A confident boy with a smug grin on his face stepped up,

“SLYTHERIN!” The Slytherin table erupted with applause,

“Back, Harper.”

HUFFLEPUFF!” The Hufflepuff table gave a polite applause,

“Bennett, Morgan.”

“HUFFLEPUFF!”

“Carney, Ashley.”

“SLYTHERIN!”

“Collins, Brynn.”

“SLYTHERIN!” The sorting continued like this, with Lesley Cooly, Eli Cooper, And Jesse Franks in Slytherin, and Kit Elliot being the first Gryffindor. Then,

“Harkness, Jack.” Jack walked up, giving the Doctor a wink, and placed the hat on his small head, it thought for a moment, then called,  
“SLYTHERIN!” Caden Hartman, Nichole Lambert, and Alex Reed all went to Gryffindor, Alexis Hayden, Taylor Lawrence, Brook Miller, and Reed Sellers went to Ravenclaw, Cory Hussain and Tanner Moreno went to Slytherin, and Blake Higgins and Fran Larsen went to Hufflepuff. Then,

“Smith, John.” The Doctor approached the hat, closing off his mind, making sure there was very little the hat could access, then sat down. He felt the hat enter, but it was unable to break down his barricades,

 _Oh! You’re new._ The hat was laughed, _I’ve never gotten someone like you before. You are powerful, so powerful that even I can not pierce your mental walls. From the little I can see, you have many qualities of a Ravenclaw. You are more clever than anyone I’ve ever seen. You are smarter than every professor here. Your wisdom is much beyond my own, but you tend to act impulsively when those you care about are in danger. I am lead to think that you would do well in Hufflepuff. You have worked very hard to get to where you are, you are loyal to the human race, and fairness is very important to you. But your hands are far from clean. You also share many attributes of a Slytherin, you are very much a leader, making your own rules as you go. Though you may show a slight bias for this House because of your friend’s placement. Lastly, you are much like a Gryffindor, for you have so much courage, bravery. Your determination is beyond measure than anyone I’ve ever seen. You may not like it, but you are a warrior. You fight, and you destroy. And yet, you trust my opinion. Very well. I will place you where I think you belong._

“GRYFFINDOR!” The Doctor looked around, they clearly had taken a long time to come to this conclusion, for everyone was murmuring. The Doctor placed the hat back on the stool and walked over to the Gryffindor table next to Harry and Ginny.

“Wow.” Ron whispered, “I don’t think anyone’s ever taken that long.

“Yeah, It must have been a half hour.” Harry agreed,

“27 minutes and 34 seconds.” The Doctor said, still grateful that even as a kid, his time sense was intact. The Professor cleared her throat and said the next name.

“Thompson, Avery.” Avery was put in Gryffindor, Mason Webb was placed in Ravenclaw, and Bre Wynn and Rose Zeller in Hufflepuff, and with that, the sorting ended. An older man, whom the Doctor assumed was Professor Dumbledore, the headmaster, stood and smiling at the students, his arms in a welcoming position,

“To our newcomers,” he said, “welcome! To our old hands – welcome back! There is a time for speech making, but this is not it. Tuck in!” There was an appreciative laugh and an outbreak of applause as the headmaster sat down.

“What were you saying before the Sorting?” the frizzy-haired girl from the train asked the ghost that was next to them,”About the hat giving warnings?”

“Oh, yes.” the ghost said, “Yes, I have heard the hat give several warnings before, always at times when it detects periods of danger for the school. And always, of course, it’s advice is the same: Stand together, be strong from within.”

“Ow kunnit nofe skusin danger ifzat?” said Ron, his mouth full,

“I beg your pardon?” the ghost said politely,

“How can it know if the school’s in danger if it’s a hat?”

“It’s got an enchanted enhanced brainstem configuration, reminiscent of a Gallifreyan brainstem, that, on a quantum level, can receive information for potential futures.” The Doctor explained,

“What?” The girl asked, eyes wide,

“It’s magic.” The Doctor said simply,

“But…” The girl seemed at a loss for words, “How do you know that? It says in _Hogwarts a History_ , that no one knows that.”

“And your name is –” The Doctor said,

“Hermione.” Hermione said in a huff,

“It doesn’t matter. Fat chance of that.” Harry said, looking at the Slytherin table at a blonde boy.

“Who’s that?” The Doctor asked,

“Malfoy.” Ron said,

“Well, now, you shouldn’t take that attitude,” the ghost said approvingly, “Peaceful cooperation, that’s the key. We ghosts, though we belong to seperate Houses, maintain links of friendship. In spite of the competitiveness between Gryffindor and Slytherin, I would never dream of seeking an argument with the Bloody Baron.”

“Quite right.” The Doctor said approvingly,

“Only because you’re terrified of him.” Ron said, his mouth finally empty, the ghost looked affronted,

“Terrified? I hope I, Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, have never been guilty of cowardice in my life! The noble blood that runs in my veins –”

“What blood?” Ron asked, “Surely you haven’t still got –?”

“It’s a figure of speech!” Sir Nicholas’ head trembled, “I assume I am still allowed to enjoy the use of whichever words I like, even if the pleasures of eating and drinking are denied me! But I am quite used to students poking fun at my death, I assure you!”

“Nick, he wasn’t really laughing at you!” Hermione said, throwing a furious look at Ron,

“Node iddum eentup sechew,” Ron said, mouth stuffed again, which Sir Nicholas seemed to take as an apology.

“Well done, Ron.” Hermione snapped,

“What?” Ron said, having finally swallowed his food, “I’m not allowed to ask a simple question?”

“Oh, forget it,” Hermione said irritably,

 

When all the students had finished eating and the noise level in the hall was starting to creep upward again, Professor Dumbledore got to his feet once more. Talking ceased immediately as all turned to face the headmaster. “Well, now that we are all digesting another magnificent feast, I beg a few moments of your attention for the usual start-of-term notices,” said Professor Dumbledore, “First years ought to know that the forest in the grounds is out of bounds to students – and a few of our older students out to know by now too.” The Doctor noticed Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchange smirks, “Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me, for what he tells me is the four hundred and sixty-second time, to remind you that magic is not permitted in the corridors between classes, nor are a number of other things, all of which can be checked on the extensive list now fastened to Mr. Filch's office door.

“We have had two changes in staffing this year. We are very pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will be taking Care of Magical Creatures lessons; we are also delighted to introduce Professor Umbridge, our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.”  There was a round of polite but fairly unenthusiastic applause. Professor Dumbledore continued, “Tryouts for the House Quidditch teams will take place on the –” He broke off, looking inquiringly at Professor Umbridge. As she was not much taller standing than sitting, there was a moment when nobody really understood why the headmaster had stopped talking, but then, Professor Umbridge said,

“ _Hem, hem_ ,” and it became clear that she had got to her feet and was intending to make a speech. Professor Dumbledore looked taken aback for a moment, then he sat back down smartly and looked alertly at Professor Umbridge as though he desired nothing better than to listen to her talk. Other members of the staff were not as adept at hiding their surprise. One teacher’s eyebrows had disappeared into her flyaway hair, Professor McGonagall’s mouth was very thin. Clearly, no teacher had interrupted Professor Dumbledore before. Many students were smirking; this woman obviously did not know how things were done at Hogwarts.

“Thank you, Headmaster,” Professor Umbridge simpered, “for those kind words of welcome.” Her voice was high-pitched and breathy. She gave another throat-clearing cough and continued: “Well, it is lovely to be back at Hogwarts, I must say!” She smiled, “And to see such happy little faces looking back at me!” The Doctor glanced around, none of the faces he could see looked happy; on the contrary, they all looked rather taken aback at being addressed as though they were five years old. “I am very much looking forward to getting to know you all, and I’m sure we’ll be very good friends!” At this, students exchanged glances, some were clearly exchanging grins, “The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of vital importance. The rare gifts with which you were born may come to nothing if not nurtured and honed by careful instruction. The ancient skills unique to the Wizarding community must be passed down through generations lest we lose them forever. The treasure trove of magical knowledge amassed by our ancestors must be guarded, replenished, and polished by those who have been called to the noble profession of teaching.” Professor Umbridge paused here and made a little bow to her fellow staff members, none of whom bowed back. Professor McGonagall’s dark eyebrows had contracted so that she looked positively hawklike. Professor Umbridge gave another “ _Hem, hem_ ,” and went on with her speech, “Every headmaster and headmistress of Hogwarts has brought something new to the weighty task of governing this historic school, and that is as it should be, for without progress there will be stagnation and decay. There again, progress for progress’s sake must be discouraged, for our tired and tested traditions often require no tinkering. A balance, then, between old and new, between permanence and change, between tradition and innovation…”

The Doctor exchanged a look with Harry, whose attention seemed to be slipping. He already didn’t like this Umbridge woman.

“…because some changes will be for the better, while others will come, in the fullness of time, to be recognized as errors of judgement. Meanwhile, some old habits will be retained, and rightly so, whereas others, outmoded and outworn, must be abandoned. Let us move forward, then, into a new era of openness, effectiveness, and accountability, intent on preserving what ought to be preserved, perfecting what needs to be perfected, and pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited.” She sat down. Professor Dumbledore clapped. The staff followed his lead, though the Doctor noticed that several of them had brought their hands together only once or twice before stopping. Professor Dumbledore stood back up,

“Thank you very much Professor Umbridge, that was most illuminating,” he said, bowing to her, “Now – as I was saying, Quidditch tryouts will be held…”

“Yes, it was certainly illuminating.” Hermione said in a low voice,

“You’re not telling me you enjoyed it?” Ron said quietly, “That was the dullest speech I’ve ever heard, and I grew up with Percy.”

“I said illuminating, not enjoyable.” Hermione said, “It explained a lot.”

“Did it?” Harry asked in surprise, “Sounded like a load of waffle to me.”

“There was some important stuff hidden in the waffle.” said Hermione grimly,

“Was there?” Ron said blankly,

“How about ‘progress for progress’s sake must be discouraged’? How about ‘pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited’?”

“What does that mean?” said Ron impatiently.

“I’ll tell you what it means,” said Hermione ominously. “It means the Ministry’s interfering at Hogwarts.”

The Doctor was lead to his dormitory with the other first years, but, as he didn’t need sleep. When the Doctor got down, he heard Ron say, “That’s out of order, Seamus,”

“Out of order, am I?” Seamus was shouting back, “You believe all the rubbish he’s come out with about You-Know-Who, do you, you reckon he’s telling the truth?”

“Crazier things have happened.” The Doctor walked into the room. Seamus looked taken aback,

“Like what? How many dead people do you know to have magically revived.”

“My friend did that once, well, a few times.” Seamus raised an eyebrow,

“Yeah, right. You’re even madder than they are.” The Doctor shrugged,

“You’re not the first one to tell me that.”

“And you –” Seamus began, turning to Ron,

“Watch what you say, because I’m a prefect, mate. So unless you want a detention, watch your mouth.” Seamus was silent, glaring at the Doctor,

“Anyone else’s parents got a problem with Harry?” Ron asked aggressively,

“My parents are Muggles, mate,” One boy said, shrugging, “They don’t know nothing about no deaths at Hogwarts, because I’m not stupid enough to tell them.”

“You don’t know my mother, she’ll weasel anything out of anyone!” Seamus snapped, “Anyway, your parents don’t get the _Daily Prophet_ , they don’t know out headmaster’s been sacked from the Wizengamot and the International Confederation of Wizards because he’s losing his marbles –”

“My gran says that’s rubbish,” piped up another boy, “She says it’s the _Daily Prophet_ that’s going downhill, not Dumbledore. She’s canceled our subscription. We believe Harry,” he said simply. He then walked upstairs, back to the dormitory, but turned back before rounding the corner, “My gran’s always said You-Know-Who would come back one day. She says if Dumbledore says he’s back, he’s back.” The Doctor gave a grin, this would be an exciting year.


	5. Potions Class

The Doctor met Harry, Ron, and Hermione in the common room that morning, “Don’t you remember what Dumbledore said at the end-of-term feast last year?” Hermione was saying, “About You-Know-Who. He said ‘ _His gift for spreading discord and enmity is very great. We can fight it only by showing an equally strong bond of friendship and trust –_ ’”

“How do you remember stuff like that?” Ron asked,

“I listen, Ron,” Hermione said with a touch of asperity.

“So do I, but I still couldn’t tell you exactly what –”

“The point,” Hermione pressed on, “is that sort of thing is exactly what Dumbledore was talking about. You-Know-Who’s only been back two months, and we’ve started fighting among ourselves. And the Sorting Hat’s warning was the same – stand together, be united –”

“And Harry said it last night,” retorted Ron, “If that means we’re supposed to get matey with the Slytherins, fat chance.”

“Why is that?” The Doctor asked, causing all three of the Gryffindors to jump,

“John!” Hermione gasped,

“We don’t get matey with Slytherins.” Ron said, “There’s not a witch or wizard who went bad who wasn’t in Slytherin.”

“Peter Pettigrew.” The three students stared at the Doctor,

“Anyway, what’s the verdict on Lord Voldemort, I’ve been a bit out of touch, not quite sure where on the timeline we are.”

“Er – what?” Ron asked,

“Well, Voldemort’s back. That’s the verdict.” Harry said, “He came back at the end of last year and almost killed me.” The Doctor nodded,

“And you haven’t seen him since?”

“No?”

“Brilliant.” The Doctor grinned, “Well, Allons-y!” They made their way to the Great Hall for breakfast,

“So, John, what kind of family are you a part of.”

“Oh, that doesn’t matter, what about you?”

“Oh, er, my parents are Muggle dentists, they clean people’s teeth.” The Doctor nodded,

“Yes, I know what a dentist is.”

“Are you Muggle-born, then?” Ron asked,   
“No, pure-blood I expect.”

“You expect? How do you not know?” Harry asked,

“You’re pure-blood, Ron, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.” Ron said, “I’m pure-blood.”

“I am too,” Harry said, “But I was raised in the Muggle world with my aunt and uncle.”

With a _woosh_ and a clatter, hundreds of owls came soaring in through the upper windows. They descended all over the Hall, bringing letters and packages to their owners and showering the breakfasters with droplets of water; it was clearly raining hard outside. Hermione had to move her orange juice aside quickly to make way for a large damp barn owl bearing a sodden _Daily Prophet_ in its beak. “What are you still getting that for?” Harry asked Hermione as she placed a small coin into the leather pouch on the owl’s leg and it took off again. “I’m not bothering…load of rubbish.”

“It’s best to know what the enemy are saying,” Hermione said darkly, she unfurled the newspaper and disappeared behind it, not emerging until Ron, Harry, and the Doctor had finished eating.

“Nothing,” she said simply, rolling up the newspaper and laying it down by her plate. “Nothing about you or Dumbledore or anything.”

 

Jack and the Doctor had their first class together, Potions. “You are here to learn the subtle science and art of potion-making,” Professor Snape began, he spoke very quietly, but still managed to command the silence of the whole class. “As there is little foolish wand-wavering here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don’t expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnare the senses… I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death - if you aren’t the big bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.” The Doctor found Professor Snape’s enthusiastic description slightly humorous,

“Smith!” the professor’s eyes locked onto the Doctor, “You seem entertained,” He said, clearly having noticed the Doctor humored face, “So tell me, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”

“You would make an incredibly strong sleeping potion known as The Draught of Living Death. It brings upon its drinker a very powerful sleep that can last indefinitely. This is very dangerous if not used with caution.” The Doctor said effortlessly. Professor Snape seemed taken aback,

“Correct.”

‘It’s a simple enough potion to make, as long as you know what you’re doing.” the Doctor mentioned offhandedly,

“That is a N.E.W.T. level potion!” Professor Snape exclaimed,

“Yes it is.” The Doctor said, than Professor Snape thought for a moment before asking,

“But where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?”

“It’s a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and is used as a cure for most poisons.” The Doctor said. Professor Snape once more was surprised,

“And what’s the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?”

“It’s the same plant, otherwise known as aconite.” The Doctor said in a matter-of-fact way. Professor Snape nodded,

“Very good Mr. Smith.” He smiled, “Ten points to Gryffindor.” The Gryffindors were stunned, it was clearly very rare for Professor Snape to give points to Gryffindor. “Now, you and your pairs will mix up a simple potion to cure boils.” The students began to get to work, but the Doctor just stared at the instructions,

“Doctor?” Jack asked, but he was not the only one to notice his lack of work.

“Smith!” Professor Snape snapped at him, “Would you care to explain why you aren’t working?” The Doctor’s eyes peeled from the instructions to look at the professor,

“I’m trying to figure out why you gave us the wrong potion.”

“Wrong?” Snape’s eyebrows knitted together,

“Well, dangerous and inefficient in any case.”

“Explain yourself.”

“Start with the snake fangs for example,” The Doctor began, “They’re only added for the calcium and the oxidoreductases. The ions of the former help desiccate the boil. The latter, when strengthened ad specialized for _Staphylococcus aureus_ via magic, helps the body fight off the infection. Everything else in the snake fang is not only useless, but, in some cases, a detriment, as seen by its violent reaction to the keratin if the porcupine quills is added too soon.” Snape opened his mouth to interrupt, but the Doctor continued, not giving him a chance. “If you replace the snake fangs with pure calcium, or even sodium chloride come to think of it, and an oxidoreductase such as catalase or L-amino-acid oxidase, which actually are in snake venom, or if you prefer, regular isopropyl alcohol would work just as well and is easy enough to get, you would have eliminated all the extraneous ingredients. Without these ingredients, the dried nettles become pointless,  since they are only added to absorb the useless and poisonous parts of the snake fangs.” Professor Snape frowned, then slowly sank into his desk chair and started taking notes. “Without nettles, you can add fewer slugs, since you no longer have to compensate for them being absorbed. With fewer slugs you don’t have to worry as much about the disulfide bonds within the keratin reacting poorly. Thus you don’t have to worry about possibly adding the porcupine quills too soon and destabilizing the bonds.” The Doctor frowned, reviewing the changes he's made, then said, “Of course, I should point out that if you do use isopropyl alcohol, you’d have to change your base liquid, since alcohol won’t mix well with oil. That’s pretty simple though; simply use water instead of oil. Granted, this means that the finished product is too thin to slather on a boil, but you can add cornstarch until it’s thick enough. This changes the final product from an ointment to a poultice, but it works just as well. There are, of course, other modifications you can make to both simplify the process to make it more efficient, but at this point you get the idea.” Professor Snape looked like he might faint.

“Mr. Smith I-” He thought for a moment, “I would like you to create the potion as written, as this class requires practical capabilities as well as theoretical knowledge.” The Doctor nodded in agreement and started the potion. Professor Snape paid close attention to the Doctor’s flawless work, and to his amazement, every so often, the Doctor leaned over to correct or make a suggestion to Jack, a Slytherin.

At the end of class, the Doctor’s potion was perfect, and Jack’s was pretty close as well.


	6. The Teacher's Meeting

Herbology was easy for the Doctor as well, as he had come across billions of types of plants in his years of travels. He then departed for his flying lesson. He and Jack stood across from each other, happy to see each other again. The teacher, Madam Hooch commanded each of them to stand by a broom. “Now stick your right hand over your broom and say ‘up!’” The Doctor did this, but nothing happened, he commanded it up again, nothing happened. Jack’s soon flew up into his hand, but the Doctor finally got frustrated and just picked it up. “Now, when I blow my whistle, kick off the ground hard.” They nodded, “One. Two. Three!” She blew the whistle, and Jack and the Doctor managed to get in the sky. The Doctor was not nearly as good as Jack. Jack flew circles around the irritable and struggling Doctor. Finally, they were told to come back to the ground, and the Doctor didn’t hesitate. He didn’t like the brooms. Or the endless teasing from Jack.

Charms was easy as well, the Doctor making the feather in front of him wiz around the room effortlessly. Transfiguration was next, the Doctor had already figured it out on the train. The lesson was to turn matches into needles, and he did it in one try. Professor McGonagall was astounded, clearly she hadn’t expected someone to do it in one class, nevermind in one try. She looked at him, then handed him another match, telling him to do it again. He obliged. She stared. “It’s not hard.” he said, turning the desk into a hog, just as Professor McGonagall had done as a demonstration at the beginning of the class.

When class ended, Professor McGonagall decided to visit Professor Dumbledore. When she knocked the door, it opened revealing the professor, “Ah, Professor McGonagall, I was expecting you.” He looked up over his half-moon spectacles, “I expect it's about one Mr. John Smith.”

Yes Albus, he transfigured his match into a needle on his first try.”

”He has exhibited extraordinary knowledge in many of his classes. I think you should acknowledge all the teachers that we are to meet in my office tonight to discuss what we should do.” She nodded and exited the office.

Professor McGonagall and the other teachers arrived that night. Professor Snape wouldn't stop talking about what a star student John Smith was, and how he wanted to move him to his N.E.W.T. class. “His levitation charm was perfect.” pipped in Professor Flitwick,

“I have done us all a favor and have invited him to my office earlier today.” Professor Dumbledore announced over all the talking. With that, they all turned to look at the headmaster,

“And what have you learned?” Professor Flitwick asked, clearly interested in this curious boy,

“He is a good lier.” Professor Dumbledore laughed,

“So what does this tell us about him?” Professor Flitwick asked,

“Perhaps you should try Legilimency?” Professor McGonagall suggested, referring to the wizard-equivalent of mind-reading,

“Perhaps.” Professor Dumbledore said thoughtfully, “I will have him meet me for Occlumency lessons,” Professor Dumbledore said, Occlumency being the art of magically closing one’s mind to Legilimency.

“And what about his classes?” Professor McGonagall cut in, “there is no question that he needs more advanced classes.” Professor Dumbledore thought for a moment, before turning to Professor Binns, the only Ghost teacher,

“Where would you like to place him for History of magic?”

“First year.” Professor Binns replied, “He clearly has no idea about history, he keeps interrupting classes to make up a ridiculous story about an event.”

“Very well, first year. Pomona?”

“Fifth year. His knowledge is incomparable to any of the other students.” Professor Sprout said, Professor Dumbledore nodded,

“Severus?”

“Seventh year.” Professor Snape said confidently,

“No. That’s ridiculous.” Professor McGonagall announced,

“He recreated a safer, easier solution to a potion I’ve been teaching for years in a matter of minutes after looking at the instructions.” He showed the potion the Doctor had made to Professor Dumbledore. Professor Dumbledore nodded slowly, deep in thought,

“What about his social life? It would be ridiculous to put him in a group of students six years older than him!” Professor McGonagall said,

“How about a private lesson?” Professor Snape suggested, Professor Dumbledore nodded,

“That sounds reasonable.”

“Minerva, where would you have him placed?”

“I don’t know Albus.” Professor McGonagall admitted, “his Transfiguration was flawless, perhaps he should be placed in private lessons as well.” The Headmaster nodded and said,

“He can add some extra curriculars as well. Fillius?”

“He was flawless in charms.” Professor Flitwick said, then, finding a good mid-ground of social life and academic intelligence, said, “Perhaps we should place him with the fifth years?”

“That sounds reasonable.” Professor Dumbledore said, “What about astronomy Aurora?” he asked Professor Sinistra, the astronomy teacher,

“I haven’t had him yet, so we should keep him in first year.” Professor Dumbledore nodded silently,

“And Professor Umbridge, what about you?”

“I haven’t had him yet, but I would like to move him into fifth year. Clearly he has strong ambitions, and may be able to straighten out some of the older students.” Professor Dumbledore shrugged, and nodded,

“I would like you to notify him of this alteration at breakfast.” Professor Dumbledore said to Professor McGonagall, than the meeting dispersed.


	7. Professor Umbridge

Breakfast the next morning was particularly difficult for the Doctor. He had been found talking to Jack at the Slytherin table, and the Slytherins were not very happy about one of their Slytherin boys mingling with a Gryffindor, and as a first year, everyone seemed to find it easy to push him around. So he and Jack retreated to the library. “So much for ‘acting normal’ Doctor.” Jack laughed. The Doctor grinned at Jack, and all of a sudden, Professor McGonagall came rushing in,

“There you are!” they looked up, “Mr. Smith, I have your new schedule.” She handed him a schedule, “you have been placed in a private lesson for potions and transfiguration and fifth year classes for Defence Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, and Charms.” The Doctor nodded as the Professor continued, “And I’d like you to meet Professor Dumbledore in his office after lunch today.”

“Okay.” The Professor hurried off, and Jack looked sadly at the Doctor,

“Now we won’t be in many classes together.” The Doctor shrugged,

“We’ll still see each other at meals and stuff.” Jack shrugged.

 

After lunch, the Doctor made his way to Professor Dumbledore’s office. He arrived at the gargoyle that guarded the office. After a moment, the gargoyle stepped aside, “Professor Dumbledore is waiting for you, Mr. Smith.”

“Thank you very much, Guardian.” The Doctor smiled,

“Hello Mr. Smith.” Professor Dumbledore greeted him as he walked in the door.

“Hello Professor Dumbledore.”

“Did Professor Mcgonagall tell you why you are here?”

“No sir.”

“Well, I would like to teach you the art of Occlumency.” The Doctor’s eyes narrowed, not liking the idea of the professor wanting to get into his head. Not that he was concerned. He knew he could defend his mind from the headmaster. But he didn’t mind making it through the lesson, knowing there was no way Professor Dumbledore could get into his head.

“Okay.”

“You’ll need your wand out.” The Doctor pulled his wand out and faced Professor Dumbledore who softly said, “I am about to break into your mind, brace yourself, now… _Legilimens!_ ” Clearly Professor Dumbledore had expected a hard forced entry into the Doctor’s mind, but instead, it was like hitting a brick wall and Professor Dumbledore was shoved back inside his own head. He looked on in shock, “How-” the Doctor looked at him,

“I’ve had a lot of practice.” Professor Dumbledore could tell something was off, he wasn’t being the sweet, clever, confident, happy, boy. He was angry, he was so angry. He could tell why they wanted him to learn Occlumency, they knew they were prodding him, he knew. And he could tell by the way he had been trying to break into his head, what he was looking for. The truth. The honest truth.

“Let’s try again.” He said, “ _Legilimens!_ ’ This time Professor Dumbledore was looking at a more precise place, clearly trying as hard as he could to infiltrate the Doctor’s mind, but once again, the Doctor pushed him out again. Professor Dumbledore looked at the Doctor again, he looked in his eyes. He hadn’t noticed this before, but his eyes were ancient. His eyes were so old. So old and so full of rage, he was clearly not happy with his second attempt. “Why don’t you go back to your common room?” Professor Dumbledore suggested, shocking himself. He would normally not give in to someone, especially a student, so easily, but the boy, this mysterious ‘John Smith’ scared him somehow, which was exceptianally strange for him. He’d fought Death Eaters, Lord Voldemort himself, and yet when he saw the little boy’s rage, it scared him. He was just a little boy, but his rage had clearly not been the immature nature that is most little boy’s rage. It was an ancient, mature rage. He watched the boy walk off, and he immediately called Professor Mcgonagall and Professor Snape to his office to discuss.

 

The Doctor found himself walking to Defence Against the Dark Arts, when he noticed  Ron and Hermione walking together. He hurried to catch up. “Where are you going?” Hermione asked him,

“Defence Against the Dark Arts. Aren’t you?” Hermione furrowed an eyebrow in confusion,

“You must be confused, this is a fifth year class. You’re a first year.”

“I know, I was placed in higher classes.”

“What?” Ron took her moment of silence to greet the Doctor.

“Hey John, that’s brilliant.” The Doctor smiled, Hermione still stuttering in the background. They sat down in the classroom, Hermione and Ron on either side of Harry, and the Doctor on the table right beside them. Professor Umbridge was already sitting at her desk, and the class was silent as they entered; Professor Umbridge was, as yet, an unknown quantity and nobody knew yet how strict a disciplinarian she was likely to be. Her appearance was reminiscent of a teacher the Doctor had in the Academy. Their memory was enough to keep the Doctor quiet.

“Well, good afternoon!” Professor Umbridge said when finally, the whole class had sat down. A few people mumbled, “Good afternoon,” in reply.

“Tut, tut,” said Professor Umbridge, “ _That_ won’t do, now, will it? I should like you, please. Good afternoon, class!”

“Good Afternoon, Professor Umbridge.” The students chanted back,

“There, now,” said Professor Umbridge sweetly, “That wasn’t too difficult, was it? Wands away and quills out, please.” The Doctor pulled his out his quill, ink, and parchment. Professor Umbridge opened her handbag, extracted her own wand, which was an unusually short one, and tapped the blackboard sharply with it; words appeared on the board at once:

 

_Defense Against the Dark Arts_

_A Return to Basic Principles_

 

“Well now, your teaching in this subject has been rather disrupted and fragmented, hasn’t it?” stated Professor Umbridge, turning to face the class with her hands clasped neatly in front of her. “The constant changing of teachers many of whom do not seem to have followed any Ministry-approved curriculum, has unfortunately resulted in your being far below the standard we would expect to see in your O.W.L. year.

“You will be pleased to know, however, that those problems are now to be rectified. We will be following a carefully structured, theory-centered, Ministry-approved course of defensive magic this year. Copy down the following, please.”

She rapped the blackboard again; the first message vanished and was replaced by:

_Course aims:_

 

  * __Understanding the principles underlying defensive magic.__


  * _Learning to recognize situations in which defensive magic can legally be used._


  * _Placing the use of defensive magic in a context for practical use._



 

 

For a couple minutes the room was full of the sound of scratching quills on parchment. When everyone had copied down Professor Umbridge’s three course aims she said, “Has everybody got a copy of _Defensive Magical Theory_ by Wilbert Slinkhard?” The Doctor raised his hand, “Ah, Mr. Smith, I presume.”

“Yes, Professor.” Professor Umbridge handed him a textbook,

“Good.” She said, “I should like you to turn to page five and read chapter one, ‘Basic for Beginners.’ There will be no need to talk.”

Professor Umbridge left the blackboard and settled herself in the chair behind the teacher’s desk, observing them all. The Doctor turned to page five and began to read.

It was desperately dull. The Doctor raised his hand, “Professor Umbridge?”

“Yes, Mr. Smith?” She looked at him, “Did you want to ask something about the chapter, dear?”

“Not about the chapter, about your course aims.” Professor Umbridge raised her eyebrows,

“Well, Mr. Smith, I think the course aims are perfectly clear if you read them through carefully,”

“Well, I don’t. It says nothing about _using_ defensive spells.” There was a short silence in which many members of the class turned their heads to frown at the three course aims still written on the blackboard.

“ _Using_ defensive spells?” Professor Umbridge repeated with a little laugh. “Why, I can’t imagine any situation arising in my classroom that would require you to _use_ a defensive spell, Miss Granger. You surely aren’t expecting to be attacked during class?”

“We’re not going to use magic?” Ron interjected loudly.

“Students raise their hands when they wish to speak in my class, Mr. –?”

“Weasley,” said Ron, thrusting his hand into the air. Professor Umbridge, smiling still more widely, turned her back on him. Harry, Hermione, and the Doctor raised their hands as well. Her eyes lingered on Harry for a moment, then addressed the Doctor,

“Yes, Mr. Smith? You wanted to ask something else?”

“What’s the point of coming to _Defense_ Against the Dark Arts if we don’t learn to effectively defend ourselves?”

“Are you a Ministry-trained educational expert, Mr. Smith?”

“Not yet, though that may give me something to do for the next century.” Professor Umbridge quirked an eyebrow,

“Well then, I’m afraid you are not qualified to decide what the ‘whole point’ of any class is. Wizards much older and cleverer than you have devised our new program of study.” The Doctor scoffed, “You will be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way –”

“What use is that?” Harry asked loudly, “If we’re going to be attacked it won’t be in a –”

“ _Hand_ , Mr. Potter.” sang Professor Umbridge. Harry thrust his fist into the air. Professor Umbridge promptly turned away from him, but now several other people had their hands up too. “And your name is?” Professor Umbridge said to a boy,

“Dean Thomas.”

“Well, Mr. Thomas?”

“Well, it’s like Harry said, isn’t it?” said Dean. “If we’re going to be attacked, it won’t be in a risk-free –”

“I repeat,” said Professor Umbridge, “do you expect to be attacked during my classes?”

“No, but –”

“I do not wish to criticize the way things have been run in this school, but some of you have been exposed to some very irresponsible wizards in this class, very irresponsible indeed – not to mention extremely dangerous half-breeds.” The Doctor jumped out of his seat,

“You –”

“ _Hand_ , Mr. Smith! And sit back down.” The Doctor begrudgingly returned to his seat. “As I was saying – you have been introduced to spells that have been complex, inappropriate to your age group, and potentially lethal. You have been frightened intro believing that you are likely to meet Dark attacks every other day –”

“No we haven’t,” Hermione said, “we just –”

“ _Your hand is not up, Miss Granger!_ ” Hermione put up her hand; Professor Umbridge turned away from her.

“It is my understanding that my predecessor not only performed illegal curses in front of you, he actually performed them _on_ you –”

“Well, he turned out to be a maniac, didn’t he?” said Dean Thomas hotly, “Mind you, we still learned loads –”

“ _Your hand is not up, Mr. Thomas!_ ” trilled Professor Umbridge. “Now, it is the view of the Ministry that a theoretical knowledge will be more sufficient to get you through your examination, which, after all, is what school is all about. And your name is –?” She added, staring at another girl whose hand had just shot up.

“Parvati Patil, and isn’t there a practical bit in our Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L.? Aren’t we supposed to show that we can actually do the countercurses and things?”

“As long as you have studied the theory hard enough, there is no reason why you should not be able to perform the spells under carefully controlled examination conditions,” said Professor Umbridge dismissively.

“Without ever practicing them before? Are you telling us that the first time we’ll get to do the spells will be during our exam?” Parvati asked,

“I repeat, as long as you have studied the theory hard enough –”

“What good’s the theory in the real world?” The Doctor laughed,

“This is school, Mr. Smith, not the real world.” She said softly.

“The point of school is to prepare us for the real world.” The Doctor said, (He had spent enough time at the Academy to know this)

“No, it’s not.”

“So, we’re not supposed to be prepared for what’s waiting out there?”

“There’s nothing waiting out there, Mr. Smith.” The Doctor laughed, “Who do you imagine want to attack children like yourselves?”

“Oh, there are lots of things out there, Professor.” The Doctor said,

“Like what, Mr. Smith?”

“Hmm, let’s think…” The Doctor said in a mock thoughtful voice, “maybe _Lord Voldemort_?” The room gasped,

“Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Smith.” Professor Umbridge growled, “Now, let me make a few things quite plain. You have been told that a certain Dark wizard has returned from the dead –”

“He wasn’t dead.” Harry jumped to his feet as well, “But yeah, he’s returned!”

“Mr.-Potter-and-Mr.-Smith-you-have-already-lost-your-House-ten-points-do-not-make-matters-worse-for-yourselves,” said Professor Umbridge in one breath without looking at either of them, “As I was saying, you have been informed that a certain Dark wizard is at large once again. _This is a lie._ ”

“It is NOT a lie.” The Doctor cried,

“Detention, Mr. Smith!” said Professor Umbridge triumphantly, “Tomorrow evening. Five o’clock. My office. I repeat, _this is a lie_. The Ministry of Magic guarantees that you are not in danger from any Dark wizard. If you are still worried, by all means come and see me outside class hours. If someone is alarming you with fibs about reborn Dark wizards, I would like to hear about it. I am here to help. I am your friend. And now, you will kindly continue your reading. Page five, ‘Basics for Beginners.’” Professor Umbridge sat down behind her desk again. “Does anyone else have any problems?” The Doctor was about to raise his hand again, when Hermione yanked it down.

“Don’t.”  



	8. Detention with Dolores

When the Doctor entered Professor Umbridge’s office, he found that every surface had been draped in lacy covers and cloths. There were several vases full of dried flowers, each resting on its own doily, and on one of the walls was a collection of ornamental plates, each decorated with a large technicolour kitten wearing a different bow around its neck. The Doctor raised an eyebrow as he walked in, Professor Umbridge spoke, “Good evening Mr. Smith.”

“Evening.” the Doctor said,

“Well, sit down.” she said, pointing toward a small table draped in lace beside which she had drawn up a straight-backed chair. A piece of blank parchment lay on the table, apparently waiting for him.

“And what will I be doing tonight, Professor?”

“Just some lines Mr. Smith.”

“How many?” The Doctor asked, pulling out his quill,

“No, not with your quill, you’re going to be using a rather special one of mine. Here you are.” The Doctor looked at it,

“And what’s so special about this quill?”

“It just helps the message sink in.”

“And what shall I be writing?”

“I would like you to write ‘ _I must not tell lies_.’”

“How many times?”

“As long as it takes.” The Doctor nodded,

“You haven’t given me any ink.”

“Oh, you won’t need ink,” said Professor Umbridge with a merest suggestion of a laugh in her voice. The Doctor placed the quill on the paper, writing out, _I must not tell lies_ _._ With a sudden jolt of pain, the Doctor dropped the quill, the words had appeared on the parchment in what appeared to be in shining orange ink, At the same time, the words had appeared on the back of the Doctor’s right hand, cut into his skin as though traced there by a scalpel – yet even as he stared at the shining cut, the skin healed over again, leaving the place where it had been quite smooth. Professor Umbridge stared at the orange blood on the parchment, then back at the Doctor, “What are you?”

“Whatever do you mean?” The Doctor asked,

“That blood, it’s not normal.” Professor Umbridge growled,  
“B-12 deficiency.” The Doctor lied, Professor Umbridge didn’t seem sure, clearly not having any medical knowledge at all, but promptly nodded,

“Very well, continue.” The Doctor continued to write. It wasn’t the worst torture he’d endured, and his happy-go-lucky attempt at conversation sincerely irritated Professor Umbridge, until she finally made him go, demanding he return the next night, most likely hoping to break him.

The second detention was just as bad as the previous one. The skin on the back of the Doctor’s hand became irritated more quickly, and Professor Umbridge was grinning,

“Welcome back, Mr. Smith.” She said.

The Doctor was quickly sent away, and returned the next night. Two weeks later, after two hours every night, Professor Umbridge was at the end of her line, inspecting his hand every day, unsure why it was so smooth. Clearly _I must not tell lies_ was supposed to stay there. She was also done with his conversation, forcing silence every night, not understanding why this first-year was so untouchable. That night, the Doctor was reading in the common-room silently with Hermione when Hermione looked at him and said, “John, why’s your hand so red?”

“Hmm?” The Doctor said, looking down, and indeed his hand was a bright red, “Oh, that’ll be healed by morning.”

“But, what’s it from?”

“Oh, nothing. Banged my hand.” It was clearly a lie, and Hermione could tell this too, but didn’t ask any more questions.

Friday night, the Doctor entered Professor Umbridge’s office, only to find no quill or parchment waiting for him. He looked up at her, who was smiling even more severely than before. “Sit down, Mr. Smith.” She said, and the Doctor did as he was told. “Now,” She said, sweeping around to his side, placing a cup of tea in front of him, “I am put in a quite unique situation, drink up,” She interrupted herself, the Doctor pressed the teacup to his lips, and let the liquid slide through. The moment he tasted it, he knew what it was. Jumping up, he said,

“Oh, Professor, you’re not as clever as you’d like to believe.”

“Drink it!” She demanded,

“No!”

“Hiding something, Mr. Smith?”  
“No.” The Doctor answered too quickly,

“Then prove it.” Professor Umbridge pressed the cup to the Doctor’s lips, forcing the liquid through. The Doctor felt his metabolism kick in, trying to rid his body of the truth serum.

“What’s your name?” Professor Umbridge demanded, the Doctor simply responded,

“You call me John Smith.”

“And what do your parents call you?”

“You call me John Smith.

“What are you best known by?”

“You call my John Smith.”

“I know that.” She cursed, “Answer my questions.”

“You wanted me to be honest, and here I am. You asked my name, and I gave you an honest answer, maybe not the one you wanted, but an answer.” She hissed,

“I didn’t want it to come to this, but I fear you leave me no choice.” Professor Umbridge pulled out her wand, the Doctor looked at her,

“Are you a half-breed?” The Doctor grinned,

“I told you all you’re going to know about me.” Professor Umbridge raised an eyebrow,

“We’ll see about that. _Crucio!_ ” The Doctor felt like his whole world had just exploded, it was worse than a blast from a dalek, pain coursed through his body, and he knew that it was because of his heightened sense of psychic energy that it was one thousand times worse for him. He screamed, pain ripping him apart, he was about to regenerate, this he was sure of, he was going to regenerate at any moment. Any second now, he would bust into gold flames, yet nothing of the sort happened, he continued to scream. After what felt like an eternity, but he know was only five minutes and fifty-two seconds, the Doctor was released from his torture, left broken on the floor. “Are you ready to answer my questions Mr. Smith?”

“No.”

“ _Crucio!_ ” The torture continued for fifty-seven more minutes before Professor Umbridge said, “We’ll try again tomorrow. You may go.” The Doctor stumbled back to the Gryffindor dormitory, as he tripped through the portrait hole, Hermione was on the other side,

“John! What the hell happened to you?” The Doctor attempted to push her away, still disoriented,

“Nothing, ‘s really nothing.” The Doctor pushed his way onto his bed and quickly fell unconscious.

The Doctor awoke the next morning to find the entire dormitory empty of people. It was a Saturday at eleven in the afternoon, the Doctor walked jumped up, the TARDIS arrived today. He nearly fell over, his body ached from the torture of the past night. He felt the TARDIS in the owlery, so that’s where the Doctor went. Harry was up there, writing a letter, the Doctor looked over his shoulder, the letter said,

_Dear Snuffles,_

_Hope you’re okay, the first week back here’s been terrible. I’m really glad it’s the weekend.._

_We’ve got a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Umbridge. She’s nearly as nice as your mum. I’m writing because of that thing I wrote you about last summer happened again yesterday afternoon in class._

_We’re all missing our biggest friend, hope he’ll be back soon._

_Please write back quickly._

_Best,_

_Harry_

 

“Who’s Snuffles?” The Doctor asked, Harry jumped,

“John! What are you doing up here?”

“Sending a letter?”

“Oh, okay.”

“So, who’s Snuffles?”

“Er –”

“Oh, is it Sirius Black?” Harry whipped out his wand and pointed it at the Doctor,

“How do you know about him?”  
“It was just a guess.” The Doctor shrugged, “He was your godfather, wasn’t he? Then he escaped Azkaban a few years ago, I assumed that was you.”

“Swear you’ll never tell anyone.” Harry demanded, “Swear it.”

“I swear I’ll never tell anyone. Relax, I know he was innocent.” The Doctor said calmly, _I know because I helped him escape._ He mentally added,

“You do?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, wow.”

“So, what happened that you’re telling Sirius about?”

“My scar hurt in Defence Against the Dark Arts yesterday.”

“Who’s your biggest friend that you’re missing?”

“Hagrid. He’s gamekeeper, he hasn’t been here all year.”

“Oh.”

“Who are you sending a letter to?”

“Oh, no one.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Looking for a big blue telephone box,

“What?” Harry raised an eyebrow, then followed the Doctor’s gaze towards a large, blue, police telephone box. “What is _that_?”

“Police telephone box.” The Doctor ran in and turned on the spot in front of the TARDIS console. Harry stepped in, eyes wide,

“Expansion charm, yeah?”

“Nope.” The Doctor grinned, popping the ‘p’, “Time Lord technology.”

“What’s a Time Lord, then?”

“It’s what I am. An alien.”

“Oh.” Was all Harry could say, “Do Ron and Hermione know?”

“No. And you can’t tell them.”  
“Why not?”

“I’m concerned they won’t take it well.”

“I won’t tell them, promise.”

“Thank you.”

At lunch, Hermione got the _Daily Prophet_ , “Anything interesting?” Ron asked,

“No.” She sighed, “just some guff about the bass player in the Weird Sisters getting married…” She opened the paper and disappeared behind it.

“Wait a moment,” Hermione said suddenly, “Oh, no… Sirius – er – Snuffles!”

“Don’t worry, he knows.” Harry told her,

“Did you tell him?” Hermione hissed,

“Don’t worry. We can trust him.” Hermione nodded, still seemingly unsure, but continued anyway, “ _‘The Ministry of Magic has received a tip-off from a reliable source that Sirius Black, notorious mass murderer… blah blah blah… is currently hiding in London!_ ’” Hermione read in an anguished whisper,

“Lucius Malfoy, I’ll bet anything,” Harry said in a low, furious voice, “He _did_ recognize Sirius on the platform…”

“What?” Ron said, looking alarmed. “You didn’t say –”

“…’ _Ministry warns Wizarding community that Black is very dangerous… killed thirteen people… broke out of Azkaban…’_ the usual rubbish,” Hermione concluded, laying down the paper and looking fearfully at Harry, Ron, and the Doctor. “Well, he just won’t be able to leave the house again, that’s all,” she whispered. “Dumbledore did warn him not to.”

“You should still give him the heads up.” The Doctor suggested, “Just to make sure he knows to be more careful.” Harry picked up the paper,

“Look at this!” He suddenly said, the Doctor looked at the small article he was reading. It was headlined:

**_TRESPASS AT MINISTRY_ **

_Sturgis Podmore, 38, of number two, Laburnum_

_Gardens, Clapham, has appeared in front of the_

_Wizengamot charged with trespass and attempted_

_robbery at the Ministry of Magic on 31st of August._

_Podmore was arrested by Ministry of Magic watch-_

_wizard Eric Munch, who found him attempting to_

_force his way through a top-security door at one_

_o’clock in the morning. Podmore, who refused to_

_speak in his own defense, was convicted on both_

_charges and sentenced to six months of Azkaban._

 

“Sturgis Podmore?” said Ron slowly, “but he’s that bloke who looks like his head’s been thatched, isn’t he? He’s one of the Ord –”

“Ron, _shh!_ ” Hermione said, casting a terrified look around them,

“Six months in Azkaban!” Whispered Harry, shocked. “Just for trying to get through a door!”

“Don’t be silly, it wasn’t just for trying to get through a door – what on earth was he doing at the Ministry of Magic at one o’clock in the morning?” breathed Hermione,

“D’you reckon he was doing something for the Order?” Ron muttered.

“Wait a moment…” said Harry slowly. “Sturgis was supposed to come and see us off, remember?” The three of them looked at Harry, “Yeah, he was supposed to be a part of our guard going to King’s Cross, remember? And Moody was all annoyed because he didn’t turn up, so that doesn’t seem like he was supposed to be on a job for them, does it?”

“Well, maybe they didn’t expect him to get caught,” said Hermione,

“It could be a frame-up!” Ron exclaimed excitedly. “No – listen! The Ministry suspects he’s one of Dumbledore’s lot so – I dunno – they _lured_ him to the Ministry, and he wasn’t trying to get through a door at all! Maybe they’ve just made something up to get him!” The Doctor nodded, it didn’t seem far-fetched.

That night, the Doctor returned the Professor Umbridge’s office, only to be tortured again. He returned to the common-room, stumbling through the portrait-hole, only to find Harry, Ron, and Hermione in there.

“Hey John, John?” The three Gryffindors were looking at him,

“‘S nothing.” The Doctor said, sliding into his dormitory, grabbing some parchment, and returning to the common-room to do his homework.

“Is that Hermes?” Hermione was saying, the Doctor looked up, an owl was flying through the window.

“Brilliant name for an owl.” He grinned, still aching,

“What’s Percy writing to me for?” Ron asked, grabbing the letter, the Doctor, Harry, and Hermione leaning over his shoulder:

 

_Dear Ron,_

_I have only just heard (from no less a person than the Minister of Magic himself, who has it from your new teacher, Professor Umbridge) that you have become a Hogwarts prefect._

_I was most pleasantly surprised when I heard this news and must firstly offer my congratulations. I must admit that I have always been afraid that you would take what we might call the “Fred and George” route, rather than following in my footsteps, so you can imagine my feelings on hearing you have stopped flouting authority and have decided to shoulder some real responsibility._

_But I want to give you more than congratulations, Ron, I want to give you some advice, which is why I am sending this at night rather by the usual morning post. Hopefully you will be able to read this away from prying eyes and avoid awkward questions._

_For something the Minister let slip when telling me you are now a prefect, I gather that you are still seeing a lot of Harry Potter. I must tell you, Ron, that nothing could put you in danger of losing your badge more than continued fraternization with that boy. Yes, I am sure you are surprised to hear this – no doubt you will say that Potter has always been Dumbledore’s favorite – but I feel bound to tell you that Dumbledore may not be in charge at Hogwarts much longer and the people who count have a very different – and probably more accurate – view of Potter’s behaviour. I shall say no more here, but if you look at the_ Daily Prophet _tomorrow you will get a good idea of the way the wind is blowing – and see if you can spot yours truly!_

_Seriously, Ron, you do not want to be tarred with the same brush as Potter, it could be very damaging to your future prospects, and I am talking here about life after school too. As you must be aware, given that our father escorted him to court, Potter had a disciplinary hearing this summer in front of the whole Wizengamot and he did not come out of it looking too good. He got off on a mere technicality if you ask me and many of the people I’ve spoken to remain convicted of his guilt._

_It may be that you are afraid to sever ties with Potter – I know he can be unbalanced and, for all I know, violent – but if you have any worries about this or have spotted anything else in Potter’s behaviour that is troubling you, I urge you to speak to Dolores Umbridge, a really delightful woman, who I know will be only too happy to advise you._

_This leads me to my other bit of advice. As I have hinted above, Dumbledore’s regime at Hogwarts may soon be over. Your loyalty, Ron, should be not to him, but to the school and the Ministry. I am very sorry to hear that so far Professor Umbridge is encountering very little cooperation from staff as she strives to make those necessary changes within Hogwarts that the Ministry so ardently desires (although she should find this easier from next week – again, see the_ Prophet _tomorrow!). I shall say only this – a student who shows himself willing to help Professor Umbridge now may be very well placed for Head Boyship in a couple of years!_

_I am sorry that I was unable to see more of you over the summer. It pains me to criticize our parents, but I am afraid I can no longer live under their roof while they remain mixed up with the dangerous crowd around Dumbledore (if you are writing to mother at any point, you might tell her that a certain Sturgis Podmore, who is a great friend of Dumbledore’s, has recently been sent to Azkaban for trespass at the Ministry. Perhaps that will open their eyes to the kind of petty criminals with whom they are currently rubbing shoulders). I count myself very lucky to have escaped the stigma of association with such people – the Minister really could not be more gracious to me – and I do hope, Ron, that you will not allow family ties to blind you to the misguided nature of our parent’ beliefs and actions either. I sincerely hope that, in time, they will realize how mistaken they were and I shall, of course, be ready to accept a full apology when that day comes._

_Please think over what I have said most carefully, particularly the bit about Harry Potter, and congratulations again on becoming prefect._

_Your brother,_

_Percy_

 

The Doctor waited for everyone else to finish reading. Harry looked up at Ron, “Well,” he said, “if you want to – er – what is it?” He checked the letter, “Oh yeah – ‘sever ties’ with me, I swear I won’t get violent.”

“Give it back,” said Ron, holding out his hand. “He is –” Ron said, tearing the letter in half, “the world’s” – he tore it into quarters – “biggest” – he tore it into eighths – “ _git_.” He threw the pieces into the fire.

The Doctor quickly finished his essays, then helped Ron and Harry with their homework, much to Hermione’s disapproval. Suddenly, Harry ran to the fire,

“Harry?” The Doctor followed him,

“Sirius?” Harry called into the fire, and suddenly, Ron and Hermione was next to them. In the middle of the dancing flames sat Sirius’s head, long dark hair falling around his grinning face.

“I was starting to think you’d go to bed before everyone else had disappeared,” he said, “I’ve been checking every hour.”

“You’ve been popping into the fire every hour?” said Harry, half laughing.

“Just for a few seconds to check if the coast was clear yet and – Harry, who’s that?” Sirius was looking at the Doctor,

“That’s John Smith, and don’t worry. He can be trusted.”

“How do you know?” Sirius asked,

“He already knew you were innocent, he’s our friend.”

“He’s a first year.”

“He’s a genius.” Ron said.

“Sirius, this is taking an awful risk –” Hermione began.

“You sound like Molly,” Sirius laughed, “This was the only way I could come up with the answering of Harry’s letter without resorting to a code – and codes are breakable.” At the mention of Harry’s letter, Hermione and Ron had both turned to stare at him.

“You didn’t say you’d written to Sirius!” Hermione said accusingly.

“I forgot.” Harry said, “Don’t look at me like that, Hermione, there was no way anyone would have got secret information out of it, was there, Sirius?”

“No, it was very good.” Sirius said, smiling. “Anyway, we’d better be quick in case we’re disturbed – your scar. Well, I know it can’t be fun when it hurts, but we don’t think it’s anything to really worry about. It kept aching all last year, didn’t it?”

“Yeah, and Dumbledore said it happened whenever Voldemort was feeling a powerful emotion, so maybe he was just, I dunno, really angry or something that afternoon.”

“Well, now that he’s back it’s bound to hurt more often,” said Sirius.

“So you don’t think it had anything to do with Umbridge?”

“I doubt it,” Sirius said, “I know her by reputation and I’m sure she’s no Death Eater –”

“She’s foul enough to be one.” Harry said darkly,

“Yes, but the world isn’t split into good people and Death Eaters,” said Sirius with a wry smile, “I know she’s a nasty piece of work, though – you should hear Remus talk about her.”

“Does Lupin know her?” Harry asked quickly,

“No,” said Sirius, “But she drafted a bit on anti-werewolf legislation two years ago that makes it almost impossible for him to get a job.” The Doctor felt the distaste in his mouth for Professor Umbridge,

“What’s she got against werewolves?” Hermione asked angrily,

“It’s half-breeds.” The Doctor said, “She doesn’t like half-breeds of any sort. The most likely reason is because she’s scared of them, or because she doesn’t like anything that’s different from her. Most likely a bit of both.”

“You’re very clever for your age,” Sirius observed,

“I’m really not.” The Doctor looked at Sirius in the fire,

“So what are Umbridge’s lessons like? Is she training you all to kill half-breeds?”

“No,” Harry said, “She’s not letting us use magic at all!”

“All we do is read the stupid textbook.” Ron said,

“Ah, well, that figures,” said Sirius. “Our information from inside the Ministry is that Fudge doesn’t want you trained in combat.”

“ _Trained in combat_?” Harry repeated, “What does he think we’re doing here, forming some sort of wizard army?”

“That’s exactly what he thinks you’re doing,” Sirius said, “or rather, that’s exactly what he’s afraid Dumbledore’s doing – forming his own private army, with which he will be able to take on the Ministry of Magic.”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard, including all the stuff the Luna Lovegood comes out with.”

“So we’re being prevented from learning Defence Against the Dark Arts because Fudge  is scared we’ll use spells against the Ministry?” said Hermione, looking furious.

“Yep,” said Sirius. “Fudge thinks Dumbledore will stop at nothing to seize power. He’s getting more paranoid about Dumbledore by the day. It’s a matter of time before he has Dumbledore arrested on some trumped-up charge.”

“D’you know if there’s going to be anything about Dumbledore in the _Daily Prophet_ tomorrow? Only Ron’s brother Percy recons there will be –”

“I don’t know,” said Sirius, “I haven’t seen anyone from the Order all weekend, they’re all busy. It’s just been Kreacher and me here…” There was a note of bitterness in Sirius’s voice.

“So you haven’t had any news about Hagrid, either?”

“Ah…” said Sirius, “well, he was supposed to be back by now, no one’s sure what’s happened to him. But Dumbledore’s not worried, so don’t you three – er – you four get yourselves in a state; I’m sure Hagrid’s fine.”

“But if was supposed to be back by now…” Hermione said in a small, worried voice.

“Madame Maxime was with him, we’ve been in touch with her and she says they got separated on the journey home – but there’s nothing to suggest he’s hurt or – well, nothing to suggest he’s not perfectly okay.” Sirius then added hastily, “Listen, don’t go asking too many questions about Hagrid, it’ll just draw even more attention to the fact that he’s not back, and I know Dumbledore doesn’t want that. Hagrid’s tough, he’ll be okay.” Then, Sirius said, “When’s your next Hogsmeade weekend anyway? I was thinking we got away with the dog disguise at the station, didn’t we? I thought I could –”

“NO!” said Harry and Hermione together, very loudly.

“Sirius, didn’t you see the _Daily Prophet_?” said Hermione anxiously.

“Oh that,” said Sirius, grinning, “they’re always guessing where I am, they haven’t really got a clue –”

“Yeah, but we think this time they have.” Harry said, “Something Malfoy said on the train made us think he knew it was you, and his father was on the platform, Sirius – you know, Lucius Malfoy – so don’t come up here, whatever you do, if Malfoy recognizes you again –”

“All right, all right, I’ve got the point,” said Sirius. He looked most displeased. “Just an idea, thought you might like to get together –”

“I would, I just don’t want you chucked back in Azkaban!” said Harry. There was a pause,

“You’re less like your father than I thought.” Sirius said with a definite coolness in his voice, “The risk would’ve been what made it fun for James.”

“Some risks aren’t worth taking.” The Doctor shot back at him, with a tone equal to Sirius’s. Sirius looked taken aback,

“Well, I’d better get going. I can hear Kreacher coming down the stairs.”

“No you don’t.” The Doctor said,

“I’ll write to tell you a time I can make it back into the fire, then, shall I? If you can stand to risk it. And maybe John shouldn’t be there, he’s just a child after all.” There was a tiny _pop_ , and the place where Sirius’s head had been was flickering flame once more.


	9. The Hogwarts High Inquisitor

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and the Doctor had all expected to have to comb Hermione’s _Daily Prophet_ carefully the next morning to find the article Percy had mentioned in his letter. However, the departing delivery owl had barely cleared the top of the milk jug when Hermione let out a huge hasp and flattened the newspaper to reveal a large photograph of Dolores Umbridge, smiling widely and blinking slowly at them from beneath the headline:   


**_MINISTRY SEEKS EDUCATIONAL REFORM_ **

**_DOLORES UMBRIDGE APPOINTED FIRST-EVER “HIGH INQUISITOR”_ **

 

“High Inquisitor?” said Harry darkly, “What does _that_ mean?” Hermione read aloud:

“ _In a surprise move last night the Ministry of Magic passed new legislation giving itself an unprecedented level of control at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

“ _‘The Minister has been growing uneasy about goings-on at Hogwarts for some time,’ said Junior Assistant to the Minister, Percy Weasley. ‘He is not responding to concerns voiced by anxious parents, who feel the school may be moving in a direction they do not approve._

“ _This is not the first time in recent weeks Fudge has used new laws to affect improvement at the Wizarding school. As recently as August 30th Educational Decree Twenty-two was passed, to ensure that, in the event of the current headmaster being unable to provide a candidate for a teaching post, the Ministry should select an appropriate person._

“ _‘That’s how Dolores Umbridge came to be appointed to the teaching staff at Hogwarts,’ said Weasley last night. ‘Dumbledore couldn’t find anyone, so the Minister put in Umbridge and, of course, she’s been an immediate success, totally revolutionized the teaching of Defense Against the Dark Arts and providing the Minister with on-the-ground feedback about what’s really happening at Hogwarts.’_

“ _‘This is an exciting new phase in the Minister's plan to get to grips with what some are calling the “falling standards” at Hogwarts,’ said Weasley. ‘The Inquisitor will have powers to inspect her fellow educators and make sure that they are coming up to scratch. Professor Umbridge has been offered this position in addition to her own teaching post, and we are delighted to say that she has accepted.’_

“ _The Ministry’s new movies have received enthusiastic support from parents of students at Hogwarts._

“ _‘I feel much easier in my mind now that I know that Dumbledore is being subjected to fair and objective evaluation,’ said Mr. Lucius Malfoy, 41, speaking from his Wiltshire mansion last night. ‘Many of us with our children’s best interests at heart have been concerned about some of Dumbledore’s eccentric decisions in the last few years and will be glad to know that the Ministry is keeping an eye on the situation.’_

“ _Among those ‘eccentric decisions’ are undoubtedly the controversial staff appointments previously described in this newspaper, which have included the hiring of werewolf Remus Lupin, half-giant Rubeus Hagrid, and delusional ex-Auror ‘Mad-Eye’ Moody._

“ _Rumors abound of course, that Albus Dumbledore, once Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards and Chief Warlock of Wizengamot, is no longer up to the task of managing the prestigious school of Hogwarts._

“ _‘I think the appointment of the Inquisitor is the first step toward ensuring that Hogwarts has a headmaster in whom we can all repose confidence,’ said a Ministry insider last night._

“ _Wizengamot elders Griselda Marchbanks and Tiberius Ogden have resigned in protest to the introduction of the post of Inquisitor to Hogwarts._

“ _‘Hogwarts is a school, not an outpost of Cornelius Fudge’s office,’ said Madam Marchbanks. ‘This is a further disgusting attempt to discredit Albus Dumbledore.’ (For a full account of Madam Marchbanks’ alleged links to subversive goblin groups, turn to page 17)._ ”

“So now we know how we ended up with Umbridge! Fudge passed this ‘Educational Decree’ and forced her on us! And now he’s given her the power to inspect other teachers! I can’t believe this. It’s _outrageous_ …”

“I can’t wait for her to inspect Professor McGonagall. She won’t know what hit her.” The Doctor grinned.

Professor Umbridge didn’t inspect any of the Doctor’s classes, so he saw her for the first time that day in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Professor Umbridge was humming and smiling to herself when they entered the room. She called all of them to order, and silence fell.

“Wands away.” She instructed them all, “As we finished chapter one last lesson, I would like you all to turn to page nineteen today and commence chapter two, ‘Common Defensive Theories and their Derivation.’ There will be no need to talk.”

The class gave an audible sigh as it turned, as one, to page nineteen. The Doctor had already read the book over twice, but knew better than to raise his hand in Professor Umbridge’s class. Hermione evidently did not, as her hand was in the air. “What is it this time, Miss Granger?” Professor Umbridge demanded,

“I’ve already read chapter two.” Hermione said,

“Well then, proceed to chapter three.”

“I’ve read that too. I’ve read the whole book.” Professor Umbridge blinked but recovered her poise almost instantly.

“Well, then, you should be able to tell me what Slinkhard says about counterjinxes in chapter fifteen.”

“He says that counterjinxes are improperly named,” Hermione said promptly, “He says ‘counterjinx’ is just a name people have their jinxes when they want to make them sound more acceptable.” Professor Umbridge raised her eyebrows, and the Doctor knew she was impressed against her will.

“But I disagree,” Hermione continued. Professor Umbridge's eyebrows rose a little higher and her gaze became distinctly colder.

“You disagree?”

“Yes, I do.” said Hermione, “Mr. Slinkhard doesn’t like jinxes, does he? But I think they can be very useful when they’re used defensively.”

“Oh, you do, do you?” Professor Umbridge said, “Well, I’m afraid it is Mr. Slinkhard’s opinion, and not yours, that matters within this classroom, Miss Granger.”

“But –” Hermione began.

“That’s enough,” said Professor Umbridge, walking back to the front of the class, “Miss Granger, I am going to take five points from Gryffindor House.” There was an outbreak of murmuring at this.

“What for?” said Harry angrily,

“For disrupting my class with pointless interruptions. I am here to teach you using a Ministry approved method that does not include inviting students to give their opinions on matters about which they understand very little. Your previous teachers in this subject may have allowed you more license, but as none of them – with the possible exception of Professor Quirrell, who did at least appear to have restricted himself to age-appropriate subjects – would have passed a Ministry inspection –”

“So, is that the Ministry’s plan?” The Doctor interrupted, “Dry students of their individuality so they become mindless servants to the Ministry? School is about learning, not just about a subject, about the world. If you think that the world empty of violent people, you’ll quickly be proven wrong. If you don’t teach students how to defend themselves, how will they be able to protect themselves as adults? Not just against other people, but  –”

“That’s enough, Mr. Smith. Clearly our little sessions in detention aren’t enough. I’ll just have to work harder, then.”

That night, the Doctor returned to Professor Umbridge’s office, and once again was on the ground, screaming. “ _Crucio!_ ” Professor Umbridge screamed again, trying to enhance the spell. Eventually, when the Doctor was on the brink of unconsciousness, Professor Umbridge straightened herself and said, “That will be enough for tonight, Mr. Smith. Please return to your dormitory.” The Doctor barely made it back to the Gryffindor common-room, where Harry, Ron, and Hermione were waiting.

“What the hell is she doing to you?” Ron asked,

“Doesn’t matter.” The Doctor said, nearly falling over,

“Clearly it does.” Hermione said,

“I’ll be fine by morning.” The Doctor said, collapsing on a chair,

“We’ve got to do something about her.” Hermione said,

“I sugged poison.” Ron said grimly,

“No… I mean, something about what a dreadful teacher she is, and how we’re not going to learn any defense from her at all.” said Hermione,

“Well, what can we do about that?” said Ron, yawning. ‘S too late, isn’t it? She got  the job, she’s here to stay. Fudge’ll make sure of that.”

“Well,” said Hermione tentatively. “You know, I was thinking today…” She shot a slightly nervous look at Harry and then plunged on, “I was thinking that – maybe the time’s come when we should just – just do it ourselves.”

“Do what ourselved?” said Harry suspiciously,

“Oh, that’s brilliant.” The Doctor grinned,

“We can’t do much by ourselves.” said Ron in a defeated voice, “I mean, all right, we can go and look jinxes up in the library and try and practice them, I suppose –”

“No, I agree, we’ve gone past the stage where we can just lean things out of books,” said Hermione. “We need a teacher, a proper one, who can show us how to use spells and correct us if we’re going wrong.” Everyone looked at the Doctor,

“No one’s going to listen to me.” The Doctor said thoughtfully, “But, as a face to look to,” The Doctor looked at Harry,

“Me?” said Harry,

“Yes, you.”

“But –”

“Look at everything you’ve done.” Hermione said,

“How do you mean?” Harry asked,

“Let’s think,” Ron said sarcastically, “Uh… first year – you saved the Stone from You-Know-Who.”

“But that was luck,” said Harry, “that wasn’t skill –”

“Second year,” Ron interrupted, “you killed the basilisk and destroyed Riddle.”

“Yeah, but if Fawkes hadn’t turned up I –”

“Third year,” said Ron, louder still, “you fought off about a hundred dementors at once –”

“You know that was a fluke, if the Time-Turned hadn’t –”

“Last year,” Ron said, almost shouting now, “you fought off You-Know-Who again –”

“Listen to me!” said Harry, almost angrily, “Just listen to me, all right? It sounds great when you say it like that, but all that stuff was lick – I didn’t know what I was doing half the time, I didn’t plan any of it, I just did whatever I could think of, and I nearly always had help –” Ron and Hermione were still smirking, “Don’t sit there grinning like you know better than I do, I was there, wasn’t I? I know what went on, all right? And I didn’t get through any of that because I was brilliant at Defense Against the Dark Arts, I got through it all because – because help came at the right time, or because I guessed right – but I just blunderd through it all, I didn’t have a clue what I was doing – STOP LAUGHING!” The Doctor was on his feet, Ron and Hermione’s smiles had vanished, “ _You don’t know what it’s like!_ You – none of you – you’ve never had to face him, have you? You think it’s just memorizing a bunch of spells and throwing them at him, like you’re in class or something? The whole time you know there’s nothing between you and dying except your own – your own brain or guts or whatever – like you can think straight when you know you’re about a second from being murdered, or tortured, or watching your friends die – they’ve never taught us that in their classes, what it’s like to deal with things like that – and you sit there acting like I’m a clever little boy to be standing here, alive, like Diggory was stupid, like he messed up – you just don’t get it, that could just as easily have been me, it would have been if Voldemort hadn’t needed me –”

“We weren’t saying anything like that, mate,” said Ron, looking agast. “We weren’t having a go at Diggory, we didn’t – you’ve got the wrong end of the –”

“Why don’t you two go.” Hermione and Ron stared at the Doctor, “Go to bed, I need to talk to Harry alone.” There was a silence, and Ron and Hermione left the room.

“I understand.” The Doctor told Harry once Ron and Hermione were gone, “I understand, and you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, but we need you because no one’s going to listen to a first year. You just need to act as the face, and I’ll do all the work.”

“Okay.” Harry finally said, “I’ll do it.”


	10. The Hog's Head

The Doctor’s detentions finally ended on Tuesday night. “ _Crucio!_ ” Professor Umbridge screamed,

“Fine, what do you want from me?” The Doctor screamed,

“Oh, wonderful.” Professor Umbridge grinned, “Now, tell me, who are you?”

“I’m just John Smith, just another student. I’m nothing special.”

“Why doesn’t my quill work on you?”

“Because I have a charm placed on my body to prevent lasting damage.” The Doctor lied,

“And why are you so clever?”

“I’ve had a gifted childhood.” Professor Umbridge nodded,

“Very well, you may leave, but the next time you speak up in my class you will come right back here.” The Doctor nodded, and exited the room.

The next afternoon, Hermione said, “Ron and I have been sounding out people who we thought might want to learn some proper Defense Against the Dark Arts, and there are a couple who seem interested. We’ve told them to meet us in Hogsmeade.”

“But John can’t come, then.’ Harry pointed out,

“Well, I thought that maybe it would be better if he didn’t.”

“Why not?” Harry asked,

“Harry, he’s just a kid.” Hermione said, the Doctor narrowed his eyebrows,

“He’s still a genius.”

“He isn't ready for this. What if we get caught. He won’t be able to handle it. The worst he’s done was lines with Umbridge. This is potentially –” The Doctor was on his feet,

“I’ve seen things you’ve never seen, I’ve done things you’d never dream of doing. I’ve felt things you’ve never felt. Don’t treat me like I’m delicate.” Hermione gave a small laugh,

“I think I’ve been through a bit more than you, John.”

“I don’t think so.”

“It doesn’t matter. You can’t come.”

“Just you watch me.” The Doctor grinned, “I’ll be there.”

That night, at dinner Jack approached the Doctor, “Doc!”

“Don’t call me Doc.”

“Doctor, I found the TARDIS in the owlery this morning, why didn’t you tell me she arrived?”

“It doesn’t matter. I can’t fly her like this.”

“Doc –”

“Don’t call me Doc.”

“Doctor, it’s been months. Why haven’t you been talking to me?”

“‘Been busy.” The Doctor explained to Jack what had been happening.

On the day of the Hogsmeade trip, the Doctor and Jack snuck out a window of the castle and slipped into the crowd of students heading to Hogsmeade. It was much easier than the Doctor expected. When the Doctor and Jack entered the Hog’s Head, Hermione’s looked incredibly shocked, as did Ron, although Harry was less so. There were already a few people there, who seemed equally surprised that the two first years were there. More students began to come, and the Doctor stood with Hermione. “How did you manage to sneak out?” She demanded,

“Climbed out a window. Surprisingly easy. I expected a challenge.” Hermione raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

Once everyone had gathered, Hermione stood up, “Er – well – er – hi.” Hermione said, “Well… erm…” The Doctor jumped up,

“You all know why you’re here.” The Doctor said, “We all agree that Professor Umbridge isn’t teaching us the kinds of things we need to be taught. We can’t call the rubbish she’s teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts, and we need to learn about using defensive spells. I don’t think there’s any doubt that we need to take matters into our own hands.” There was a nod of agreement, “But it’s not only that,” the Doctor continued, “This world is threatened, and everyone will need to be able to defend themselves.”

“Whatever do you mean?” A girl asked, fear twinkled in her eyes,

“Voldemort has returned.” The Doctor said boldly. The reaction was immediate and predictable. One girl shrieked and slopped her drink down herself, a boy gave a kind of involuntary twitch, on of the twin girls who had come shuddered, and one boy have an odd yelp that he managed to turn into a cough. All of them, however, looked fixedly, even eagerly, at Harry. After a moment of silence, a Hufflepuff girl asked,

“Where’s the proof You-Know-Who’s back?”

“Well, Dumbledore believes it –” Hermione began,

“You mean, Dumbledore believes _him_ ,” said a blond boy nodding at Harry,

“Who are _you_?” Ron asked rather rudely.

“Zacharias Smith,” the boy said, “and I think we’ve got the right to know exactly what makes _him_ say You-Know-Who’s back.” The Doctor turned and nodded to Harry, who stood up.

“What makes me say You-Know-Who’s back?” he asked, looking Zacharias straight in the face. “I saw him. But Dumbledore told the whole school what happened last year, and if you didn’t believe him, you don’t believe me, and I’m not wasting an afternoon trying to convince anyone.” The whole group seemed to have held its breath while Harry spoke. The Doctor noticed that even the barman was listening in, as he was wiping the same glass with the filthy rag; it was becoming steadily dirtier. Zacharias said dismissively,

“All Dumbledore told us last year was that Cedric Diggory got killed by You-Know-Who and that you brought Diggory’s body back to Hogwarts. He didn’t give us details, he didn’t tell us exactly how Diggory got murdered, I think we’d all like to know –”

“If you’ve come to hear exactly what it looks like when Voldemort murders someone, I can’t help you.” His temper was rising again, and the Doctor knew why, exactly why. “I don’t want to talk about Cedric Diggory, all right? So if that’s what you’re here for, you might as well clear out.” Not a single person left their seat, not even Zacharias Smith, though he continued to gaze intently at Harry.

“Is it true?” a girl suddenly asked, looking directly at Harry, “that you can produce a Patronus?” There was a murmur of interest around the group at this.

“Yeah,” said Harry slightly defensively,

“A corporeal Patronus?” A girl asked, “Is it true you make a stag Patronus?”

“Yes.” Harry said,

“Blimey, Harry!” a boy said, “I never knew that!”

“Mum told Ron not to spread it around,” said a boy who could only be Fred or George Weasley, “She said you got enough attention as it was.”

“She’s not wrong.” Harry mumbled,

“And did you kill a basilisk with that sword in Dumbledore’s office?” demanded a boy who had spoken earlier, “That’s what one of the portraits on the wall told me when I was in there last year…”

“Er – yeah, I did, yeah.” said Harry timidly. One boy whistled, two brothers exchanged awestruck looks, and one gil said “wow.” softly.

“And in our first year,” said the boy who had coughed earlier, “he saved that Sorcerous Stone –”

“Sorcerer’s” hissed Hermione,

“Yes, that, from You-Know-Who,” he finished,

“And that’s not to mention,” said a girl who Harry seemed to be staring at, “all the tasks he had to get through in the Triwizard Tournament last year – getting past dragons and merpeople and acromantulas and things…” There was a murmur of impressed agreement around the table.

“Look,” Harry said, and everyone fell silent at once, “I…I don’t want to sound like I’m trying to be modest or anything, but…I had a lot of help with all that stuff…”

“Not with the dragon you didn’t,” said a boy at once, “That was a seriously cool bit of flying…”

“Yeah, well –” Harry began,

“And nobody helped you get rid of those dementors this summer,” said a girl,

“No,” said Harry, “no, okay, I know I did bits of it without help, but the point I’m trying to make is –”

“Are you trying to weasel out of showing us any of this stuff?” said Zacharias Smith,

“Here’s an idea,” said Ron loudly before Harry could speak, “why don’t you shut your mouth.”

“Well, we’ve all turned up to learn from him, and now he’s telling us he can’t really do any of it.” he said,

“That’s not what he said,” snarled one of the Weasley twins,

“Would you like us to clean out your ears for you?” the other twin inquired, pulling a long and lethal-looking metal instrument from inside a bag,

“Or any part of your body, really, we’re not fussy where we stick this.” the first twin said,

“Yes, well,” said Hermione hastily, “moving on…the point is, are we agreed we want to take lessons from Harry?” There was a murmur of general agreement. Zacharias folded his arms and said nothing, though perhaps because he was too busy keeping an eye on the instrument in George’s hand.

“Right,” said Hermione, looking relieved that something had been settled. “Well, then, the next question is how often we do it. I really don't think there’s any point in meeting less than once a week –”

“Hang on,” said a Gryffindor girl, “we need to make sure this doesn’t clash with out Quidditch practice.”

“No,” said the girl Harry had been staring at, “nor with outs.”

“Nor ours.” said Zacharias.

“I’m sure we can find a night that suits everyone,” said Hermione, slightly impatiently, “but you know, this is rather important, we’re talking about learning to defend ourselves against V-Voldemort’s Death Eaters –”

“Well said!” barked a boy, “Personally I think this is really important, possibly more important than anything else we’ll do this year, even with our O.W.L.s coming up!” he went on, “I, personally, am at a loss to see why the Ministry has foisted such a useless teacher upon us at this critical period. Obviously they are in denial about the return of You-Know-Who, but to give us a teacher who is trying to actively prevent us from using defensive spells –”

“We think the reason Umbridge doesn’t want us trained in Defence Against the Dark Arts,” said Hermione, “is that she’s got some… some mad idea that Dumbledore could use the students in the school as a kind of private armey. She thinks he’d mobilize us against the Ministry.” Nearly everyone looked stunned at this news; everybody except a girl with long blonde hair who piped up, “Well, that makes sense. After all, Cornelius Fudge has got his own private army.”

“What?” said Harry,

“Yes, he’s got an army of heliopaths,” said the girl solemnly.

“No, he hasn’t.” snapped Hermione,

“Yes, he has,” said the girl,

“What are heliopaths?” asked the boy who coughed, looking blank.

“They’re spirits of the fire,” she said, “Great tall flaming creatures that gallop across the ground burning everything in front of –”

“They don’t exist, Neville,” said Hermione tartly.

“Oh, yes they do!” the girl said angrily,

“I’m sorry, but where’s the _proof_ of that?” snapped Hermione.

“There are plenty of eyewitness accounts, just because you’re so narrow-minded you need to have everything shoved under your nose before you –”

“ _Hem, hem_.” said Ginny in such a good imitation of Professor Umbridge that several people looked around in alarm then laughed. “Weren’t we trying to decide how often we’re going to meet and get Defense lessons?”

“Yes,” said Hermione at once, the Doctor walked over to the girl,

“Hello, I’m the Doctor.”

“Luna Lovegood. And you have an interesting ora, it’s old, yet you are young. And it’s lonely, it sees such beauty, yet you are so alone. And, and powerful. It holds so very much power, tell me, who are you?” The Doctor was taken aback, then grinned,

“Meet me at the owlery tonight at eleven, and I’ll show you.” Luna smiled,

“I look forward to it.”

“I-I think everybody should write their name down, just so we know who was here. But I also think,” she took a deep breath, “that we all ought to agree not to shout about what we’re doing. So if you sign, you’re agreeing not to tell Umbridge – or anybody else – what we’re up to.” The Weasley twins reached out for the parchment and cheerfully put down their signatures, but several people looked less than happy at the prospect of putting their names on the list.

“Er…” said Zacharias slowly, not taking the patchment that the twins were trying to pass to him. “Well…I’m sure Ernie will tell me when the meeting is.” But the boy next to him, presumably Ernie, was looking rather hesitant about signing too. Hermione raised her eyebrows at him.

“I – well, we are _prefects_ ,” Ernie burst out. “And if this list was found… well, I mean to say… you said yourself, if Umbridge finds out…”

“You just said this group was the most important thing you’d do this year,” Harry reminded him.

“I – yes,” said Ernie, “yes, I do believe that, it’s just…”

“Ernie, do you really think I’d leave that list lying around?” Hermione asked testily,

“No. No, of course not,” said Ernie, looking slightly less anxious. “I – yes, of course I’ll sign.” Nobody raised objections after Ernie, though, the Doctor noticed one girl give a rather reproachful look before adding her name.

When the last person – Zacharias – had signed, Hermione took the parchment back and slipped it carefully into her bag. There was an odd feeling in the group now. It was as though they had signed some kind of contract. The room then dispersed.


	11. Educational Decree Number Twenty-Four

That night, the Doctor met Luna in the owlery, “Good evening, Doctor. The pucknigs are loud tonight.”

“Yes, they are.” The Doctor said, as he too could hear the faint chatter of the small rodents.

“So, what are you going to show me, is it the blue box? She’s very noisy in my head.” The Doctor nodded, knowing why this young girl had such a strong psychic field, this was common with witches and wizards, every so often there would be one born with a stronger psychic field. Normally they would become divination teachers or be in professions of the sort. Luna was strong, the Doctor could tell.

“Yes, come in.” The Doctor opened the TARDIS door, and Luna gave a trusting step inside,

“This is not magic.” Luna said, it wasn’t a question,

“No.”  
“You’re not human.” Again, not a question,

“No, I’m not.”

“Then what are you?”

“Time Lord.”

“Oh, I’ve heard of your people. From what I can tell from Muggle history, a few come visit here and there, every so often.”

“You examine Muggle history?” The Doctor was surprised,

“Oh yes, how else will I know about sightings for creatures?”

“That’s good, and it’s only really me who visits.”

“No, it can’t be, they say it’s always adult men who visit. They say they come, wreak havoc, steal children, and fly away. They are said to have golden tongues, they lure children to their magic spaceships and the children are never seen again.” The Doctor took a step back, he hadn’t expected that.

“I–I–” He ran, sprinting out of his TARDIS, into the coolness of the night, he heard Luna close the door behind her, running after him,  
“Doctor!” She called, but despite his shorter legs, he was much faster. He didn’t realize where he was until he’d stopped running. He was in front of the portrait for the Gryffindor common-room. He said the password, this was somewhere he knew Luna couldn’t follow him. He climbed into his bed, placing his head in his hands. This was the man he was.

 

It was difficult to avoid Luna, as she was seeking him out, but if he didn’t want to be found, he wouldn’t be. That morning, he had entered the Gryffindor common-room, only to find a large sign on the notice board. It was printed in large black letters and there was a highly official-looking seal at the bottom beside a neat and curly signature.

 

––––– By ORDER OF ––––

**THE HIGH INQUISITOR OF HOGWARTS**

 

 All Student Organizations, Societies, Teams, Groups, and Clubs are henceforth disbanded

An Organization, Society, Team, Group, or Club is hereby defined as a regular meeting of three or more students.

Permission to re-form may be sought from the High Inquisitor (Professor Umbridge).

 No Student Organization, Society, Team, Group, or Club may exist without the knowledge and approval of the High Inquisitor.

Any student found to have formed, or to belong to, an Organization, Society, Team, Group, or Club that has not been approved by the High Inquisitor will be expelled.

 

_The above is in accordance with_

_Educational Decree Number Twenty-four._

 

Signed:

_Dolores Jane Umbridge_

**HIGH INQUISITOR**

 

“This isn’t a coincidence.” The Doctor told Harry, Ron as they looked at him after finishing reading it for themselves, “Someone’s told her.” The two boys nodded,

“Has anyone told Hermione?” Ron asked,

“I’ll go find her.” The Doctor said, climbing the stairs to the girls dormitory.  Ron tried to follow, and there was a loud wailing klaconlike sound and the steps melted together to make a long smooth stone slide. The Doctor watched from the top of the stairs as Ron toppled over backward and shot down the newly created slide. The Doctor was pushed down the slide by two giggling fourth year girls, followed by Hermione, who was frowning,

“How’d you get up the stairs, John?”

“Must not have gotten a clear read.” The Doctor half-lied, it hadn’t gotten a clear read because it had been looking for human life forms. Hermione furrowed her eyebrows and asked,

“What were you coming up for anyway?”

“To show you this.” The Doctor indicated to the notice. Hermione quickly read it, and her expression became stony.

“We think someone’s blabbed to her.” Ron said,

“They can’t have done,” said Hermione, suddenly, the Doctor gave Hermione an amused look,

“You’ve jinxed it, haven’t you.” Hermione grinned,

“Yes I have.”

“What’ll happen to them?” Ron asked,

“Well, put it this way,” said Hermione, “It’ll make Eloise Midgen’s acne look like a couple of cute freckles. Come on, let’s get down to breakfast and see what the others think…I wonder whether this has been put up in all the houses.”

It was immediately apparent on entering the Great Hall the Umbridge’s sign had not only appeared in Gryffindor Tower. There was a particular intensity about the chatter and an extra measure of movement in the Hall as people scurried up and down their tables conferring on what they had read. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and the Doctor had only just sat down when Neville, Fred and George, Ginny, another boy the Doctor had never met, and Jack descended upon them.

“Did you see it?”

“D’you reckon she knows?”

“What are we going to do?”

“We’re going to do it anyway, of course,” The Doctor said,

“The prefects as well?” One of the twins asked,

“Of course.” Hermione said coolly,

“Here comes Ernie and Hannah Abbott,” said Ron looking over his shoulder. “ _And_ those Ravenclaw blokes and Smith…and no one looks very spotty.” Hermione looked alarmed.

“Never mind spots, the idiots can’t come over here now, it’ll look really suspicious – sit down!” She mouthed to Ernie and Hannah, gesturing frantically to them to rejoin the Hufflepuff table. “Later! We’ll – talk – to – you – _later_!”

“I’ll tell Michael.” said Ginny impatiently, swinging herself off her bench. “The fool, honestly…” She hurried off to the Ravenclaw table.

At break, the Doctor saw Harry running up to him, handing him a letter. It was from Sirius.

 

Today, same time, same place

 

The Doctor, Harry, Hermione, and Ron waited in the Gryffindor common room that night for Sirius. “Sirius!” Harry cried out as his face appeared in the fire,

“Hi.” Sirius said, grinning,

“Hi.” Harry, Ron, and Hermione chorused,

“How are things?” Sirius asked,

“Not that good.” Harry admitted, “The Ministry’s forced through another decree which means we’re not allowed to have Quidditch teams –”

“– or secret Defence Against the Dark Arts groups?” Sirius finished.

“How do you know about that?” Harry demanded,

“You want to choose your meeting places more carefully,” said Sirius, grinning still more broadly. “The Hog’s Head, I ask you…”

“Well, it was better than the Three Broomsticks!” said Hermione defensively. “That’s always packed with people –”

“ – which means you’d have been harder to overhear –”

“– But it would have been harder to get your message across. In the Hog’s Head we weren’t doing anything against any rules, and we were clear and concise.” Sirius gave him a glare,

“Ah, I heard you were a right revolutionary, weren’t you. Though, it’s not your first time.” The Doctor stared at him,

“How much do you know?”

“Enough.”

“Who did you hear it from?”

“Miss Luna Lovegood. We’ve been in contact.”

“And your opinion?”

“She claims you have a good ora, but evidence is against you.”  
“What the hell are you talking about?” Hermione asked,

“None of your concern.” The Doctor snapped,

“Don’t think we won’t talk about this later, _Doctor_.” The Doctor gave a curt nod,

“Um, okay.” Hermione seemed a little uneasy, but the conversation continued,

“Anyway, First of all, Ron – I’ve sworn to pass on a message from your mother.”

“Oh yeah?” Ron said, sounding apprehensive,

“She says on no account whatsoever are you to take part in an illegal secret Defence Against the Dark Arts group. She says you’ll be expelled for sure and your future will be ruined. She says there will be plenty of time to learn how to defend yourself later and that you are too young to be worrying about that right now. She also” – Sirius’s eyes turned to Harry, Hermione, and the Doctor – “advises the three of you not to proceed with the group, especially you, John. She says under no circumstance should a boy of your age be in an illegal group like that, though she accepts that she has no authority over either of them and simply begs them to remember that she has their best interests at heart. She would have written all this to you, but if the owl had been intercepted you’d all have been in real trouble, and she can’t say it for herself because she’s on duty tonight.”

“On duty doing what?” Ron asked quickly,

“Never mind, just stuff for the order,” said Sirius. “So it’s fallen to me to be the messenger and make sure you tell her I passed it all on, because I don’t think she trusts me to.”

“So, you want me to say I’m not going to take part in the defence group?” Harry muttered after a silence,

“Me? Certainly not!” said Sirius, looking surprised. “I think it’s an excellent idea!”

“You do?” Harry asked,

“Of course I do!” said Sirius. “D’you think your father and I would’ve lain down and taken orders from an old hag like Umbridge?”

“Alright, that’s it.” The Doctor interrupted, “Stop comparing him to his father. He’s his own person. Don’t try to manipulate him into doing things and taking risks just because that’s what his father did.” Sirius looked taken aback,   
“But his father was a brilliant man.”

“So what? You father was your friend, I understand that, but you have to stop pretending that Harry is your best friend back again.”

“Easy for you to say, I doubt you’ve ever even lost someone.”

“You know nothing about me! You know nothing of what I’ve lost!” The Doctor snapped, “Don’t pretend you do.” Sirius gave the Doctor a nasty look, then, suddenly looked tense and alarmed. He turned sideways, apparently looking into the solid brick wall of the fireplace.

“Sirius?” asked Harry anxiously. But he had vanished. They stared into the flames for a moment, then Harry turned to Ron, Hermione, and the Doctor, “Why did he –” Suddenly, Hermione gave a horrified gasp and leapt to her feet, still staring at the fire. A hand had appeared amongst the flames, groping as though to catch hold of something; a stubby, short-fingered hand covered in ugly old-fashioned rings…

The four of them ran for it; at the door of the boys’ dormitory, both the Doctor and Harry looked back. Professor Umbridge’s hand was still making snatching movements amongst the flames, as though she knew exactly where Sirius’s hair had been moments before and was determined to seize it.


	12. Dumbledore's Army

At break, Harry joined the Doctor in the common room. “John.” He breathed, running into the empty room. The Doctor looked up,

“Harry? What’s wrong?”

“My scar.”

“What did you feel?” The Doctor asked, fully aware of the connection with Voldemort. Harry looked surprised, clearly no one had ever asked him that,

“He’s angry. He wants something done, and it’s not happening fast enough,”

The next morning, Harry had somehow found a new place to hold meetings for the Defense group. “Who told you about this room?” The Doctor inquired,

“Dobby. He’s a house elf who lives in the kitchens. I freed him from the Malfoys a few years ago.”   
“Harry,” Hermione said cautiously, “Well, Dobby’s plans aren’t always that safe. Remember when he lost all the bones in your arm?”

“This room isn’t just some mad idea of Dobby’s; Dumbledore knows about it too, he mentioned it to me at the Yule Ball.” Hermione’s expression cleared,

“Dumbledore told you about it?”

“Just in passing,” said Harry, shrugging.

“Oh well, that’s all right then.” said Hermione briskly and she raised no more objections.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, the Doctor, and Jack spent most of the day seeking out those people who had signed their names to the list in the Hog’s Head and telling them where to meet that evening. By the end of dinner, they were confident that the news had been passed to every one of the twenty-six people who had turned up in the Hog’s Head.

At half-past seven, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and the Doctor left the Gryffindor common room, Harry was clutching a certain piece of aged parchment in his hand. Fifth years were allowed to be out in the corridors until nine o’clock, so only the Doctor had to be extra cautious. “Hold it,” said Harry warningly, unfolding the piece of parchment at the top of the last staircase, tapping it with his wand and muttering, “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.” A map of Hogwarts appeared upon the blank surface of the parchment. Tiny black moving dots, labeled with names showed where various people were. “Filch is on the second floor,” said Harry, holding the map close to his eyes and scanning it closely, “and Mrs. Norris is on the fourth.”

“And Umbridge?” said Hermione anxiously.

“In her office,” said Harry, pointing. “We’re here, and –” Harry paused mid-sentence, “John, you’re not on the map.” The Doctor shrugged, unsurprised, “Is it because?” Harry asked, implying the fact that the Doctor was an alien,

“Yep.” The Doctor grinned, “Technically, I don’t exist.”

“What are you two –” Hermione began, but the Doctor waved her away,

“Allons-y!” the Doctor grinned, leading the way.

They hurried along the corridor to the place Dobby had described to Harry, a stretch of blank wall opposite an enormous tapestry depicting Barnabas the Barmy’s foolish attempt to train trolls for the ballet. “Okay.” said Harry quietly, “Dobby said to walk past this bit of wall three times, concentrating hard on what we need.”

“I’ll do it.” The Doctor said, being used to controlling his thoughts for things like psychic paper. He did so, turning sharply at the window just beyond the blank stretch of wall, then at the human-sized vase on its other side.

_We need a place to practice defensive magic. Somewhere that will supply all of our needs. Somewhere no one will be able to find us._

“John,” said Hermione sharply, as he wheeled around after his third walk past. A highly polished door had appeared on the wall. Ron was staring at it, looking slightly wary. The Doctor reached out, seizing the brass handle, and pulled open the door, and led the way into a spacious room lit with flickering torches like those that illuminated the dungeons eight floors below. The walls were lined with wooden bookcases, and instead of chairs, there were large silk cushions on the floor. A set of shelves at the far end of the room carried a range of instruments such as Sneakoscopes, Secrecy Sensors, and a large, cracked Foe-Glass.

“These will be good when we’re practicing Stunning,” said Ron enthusiastically, prodding one of the cushions with his foot.

“And just look at these books!” said Hermione excitedly, running a finger along the spines of the large leather-bound tomes. “ _A Compendium of Common Curses and Their Counter-Actions_ … _The Dark Arts Outsmarted_ … _Self-Defensive Spellwork_ …wow…” She looked around, her face was glowing. “John, this is wonderful, there’s everything we need here!” Without further ado, she slid _Jinxes for the Jinxed_ from its shelf, sank into the nearest cushion, and began to read.

There was a gentle knock on the door. The Doctor looked around, Ginny, Neville, Lavender, Parvati, and Dean had arrived.

“Whoa,” said Dean, staring around, impressed. “What is this place?” Harry began to explain, but before he finished, more people had arrived, and he had to start over again. By the time eight o’clock arrived, every cushion was occupied. The Doctor moved across to the door and turned the key protruding from the lock; it clicked in a satisfyingly loud way, and everybody fell silent, the Doctor nodded to Harry, who began,

“Well,” said Harry, slightly nervously. “This is the place we’ve found for practices, and you’ve – er – obviously found it okay –”

“It’s fantastic!” said a girl named Cho, and several people murmured their agreement.

“It’s bizarre,” said Fred, frowning around at it. “We once hid from Filch in here, remember, George? But it was just a broom cupboard then…”

“It gives you the room you need.” The Doctor quickly explained,   
“Hey, Harry, what’s this stuff?” asked Dean from the rear of the room, indicating the Sneakoscopes and the Foe-Glass.

“Dark Detectors,” said Harry, stepping between the cushions to reach them. “Basically they show when Dark wizards or enemies are around, but you don’t want to rely on them too much, they can be fooled.” The Doctor then stood up,

“I think we ought to begin by finding a better way to communicate, because we can’t go by word, we’ll be overheard and –” Hermione’s hand had shot in the air,

“What, Hermione?” Harry asked,

“I think we ought to elect a leader.” said Hermione.

“Harry’s leader.” said Cho at once,

“What about John, he’s got to be the cleverest kid in the school, and he’s a first-year.”

“Why don’t we do a proper vote?” Hermione suggested,

“We are a team. The purpose is to work together. That said, perhaps major decisions should be made by Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I, as we put this all together.” There was a nod of agreement, clearly that was reasonable.

“Everyone who agrees, say ‘aye’” Hermione shouted,

“Aye!” The room agreed,

“Alright, we now need a name to refer to ourselves.” the Doctor said,   
“Can we be the Anti-Umbridge League?” said Angelina hopefully,

“No, we need something quick that can be mentioned in passing, and to an eavesdropping ear won’t mean anything to anyone.” The Doctor said,

“What about the Defense Association?” said Cho, “The D.A. for short?” The Doctor grinned,

“Brilliant, Cho.”

“What if,” Ginny said, “we make D.A. stand for Dumbledore’s Army because that’s the Ministry’s worst fear, isn’t it?” There was a good deal of appreciative murmuring and laughter at this,

“All in favor of the D.A. say ‘Aye’.” The Doctor said,

“Aye!” The group chorused,

“Right,” the Doctor said, “shall we get practicing then? Harry?” Harry stood up,

“I was thinking the first thing we should do is _Expelliarmus_ , you know, the Disarming Charm. I know it’s pretty basic but I’ve found it really useful –”

“Oh _please_ ,” said Zacharias, rolling his eyes and folding his arms. “I don’t think _Expelliarmus_ is exactly going to help us against You-Know-Who, do you?”

“I’ve used it against him.” said Harry quietly, “It saved my life last June.” Zacharias opened his mouth stupidly. The rest of the room was very quiet. “But if you think it’s beneath you, you can leave.” Harry said, Zacharias didn’t move.

“Okay,” The Doctor said, “I reckon we should all divide into pairs and practice.” As everyone went off to practice, the room was suddenly full of shouts of “ _Expelliarmus!_ ”: Wands flew in all directions, missed spells hit books on shelves and sent them flying into the air. Although, not everyone was successful.

At nine-o’clock, the Doctor placed two fingers in his mouth, whistling very loudly. Silence came upon the room, “That was pretty good,” The Doctor, “But everyone better leave before we get caught by Filch. Same time, same place next week?”

“Sooner!” said Dean Thomas eagerly, and many people nodded in agreement.

“The Quidditch season’s about to start, we need team practices too!” Angelina said quickly,

“Let’s say next Wednesday night then,” Harry suggested, “and we can decide on additional meetings then… Come on, we’d better get going.”

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and the Doctor returned to the Gryffindor Common room, the rest of the Gryffindors heading to bed.


	13. The Lion and the Serpent

After a few weeks of D.A. meetings, the Doctor devised a plan to communicate each meeting time to every meeting. He gave each member of the D.A. a false Galleon. “You see the numerals around the edge of the coins?” Hermione was explaining to Ron once the Doctor had explained it to her, “On real Galleons that’s just a serial number referring to the goblin who cast the coin. On these fake coins, though, the numbers will change to reflect the time and date of the next meeting. The coins will grow hot when the date changes, so if you’re carrying them in a pocket, you’ll be able to feel them. We take one each, when Harry sets the date of the next meeting on _his_ coin, and because I’ve put a Protean Charm on them, they’ll all change to mimic his.”

A few weeks later, the week before the big Gryffindor vs. Slytherin Quidditch match, the D.A. meetings were put on hold so Harry could go to Quidditch practice. So when the big game came, Hermione dragged the Doctor along. “It’s Ron’s first game.” She said, “You need to come and support him.” And indeed, it was the first game as Keeper for Ron. The Doctor immediately noticed that most of the Slytherins were wearing badges that said _Weasley is our King_. The Doctor and Jack found their way into the stands, Jack across the pitch with the rest of the Slytherins. The whistle was blown, all four balls and all fourteen players shot into the sky. Ron streaked over to the goal hoops, and Harry flew upwards. Lee Jordan was commentating, “And it’s Johnson, Johnson with the Quaffle, what a layer that girl is, I’ve been saying it for years and she still won’t go out with me –”

“JORDAN!” Professor McGonagall yelled,

“Just a fun fact, Professor, adds a bit of interest – and she’s ducked Warrington, she’s passed to Montague, she’s – ouch – been hit from behind by a Bludger from Crabbe… Montague catches the Quaffle, Montague heading back up the pitch and – nice Bludger there from George Weasley, that’s a Bludger to the head for Montague, he drops the Quaffle, caught by Katie Bell, Katie Bell of Gryffindor reverse passes to Alicia Spinnet and Spinnet’s away – dodges Warrington, avoids a Bludger – close call, Alicia – and the crowd are loving this, just listen to them, what’s that they’re singing?” Lee paused to listen to the song as it rose loud and clear from the sea of green and silver in the Slytherin section of the stands:

 

_Weasley cannot save a thing,_

_He cannot block a single ring,_

_That’s why Slytherins all sing:_

_Weasley is our King._

 

_Weasley was born in a bin,_

_He always lets the Quaffle in,_

_Weasley will make sure we win,_

_Weasley is our King._

 

“– and Alicia passes back to Angelina!” Lee shouted, clearly trying to drown out the sound of singing. “Come on now, Angelina – looks like she’s got just the keeper to beat! – SHE SHOOTS – SHE – aaaah…” The Keeper for Slytherin caught the Quaffle, throwing it to another Slytherin player. The singing grew louder,

 

_Weasley is our King,_

_Weasley is our King,_

_He always lets the Quaffle in,_

_Weasley is our King._

 

“ _Silencio._ ” The Doctor whispered, silencing the Slytherin crowd. The mouths of Slytherin students opened and closed, confused as to why no sound was emerging.

 

By the end of the game, the silent Slytherins seemed to give Ron the confidence to block most of the goals, and Harry caught the snitch. The Doctor and Hermione were making their way off the stands where they met up with Ron and Harry, when Draco Malfoy came storming over. “That was you, wasn’t it?” He demanded, the Doctor shrugged,

“Write a better song next time.” Hermione shot back,

“I’ve never seen a worse Keeper…” Draco continued without a care, “But then he was _born in a bin_ … Did you like my lyrics, Potter?” The Doctor turned around, Harry, Ron, and Hermione in toe, but Draco kept going, “We wanted to write another couple of verses! But we couldn’t find rhymes for fat and ugly – we wanted to sing about his mother, see – and we couldn’t fit in _useless loser_ either – for his father, you know –”

“Leave it.” The Doctor hissed to Fred and George who looked about to strangle the pale boy,

“– bt you like the Weasleys, don’t you, Potter?” sneered Draco, “Spend holidays there and everything, don’t you? Can’t see how you stand the stink, but I suppose when you’ve been dragged up by Muggles even the Weasleys’ hovel smells okay –” Once again, the Doctor had to pull Fred and George back, Draco was laughing openly.  “Or perhaps,” Draco sneered, “you can remember what _your_ mother’s house stank like, Potter, and Weasley’s pigsty reminds you of it.”

“Oi!” The Doctor stepped up to Draco,

“What’s wrong? Are you buddying up to Weasley too?” Draco laughed, “I’d have thought a pure-blood like yourself would see the better side of things. What happened to your parents, Smith?” The Doctor was slightly taken aback,

“I don’t have any.” The Doctor said,

“No wonder you like Muggles too, then.” Draco laughed, “But unlike Potter, I doubt you got the honor to have them killed by the Dark Lord.” The Doctor’s eyes darkened, he let go of Fred and George, whom he had been holding back, and with his wand out, he marched up to Draco,

“ _Stupify!_ ” Draco shouted quickly,

“ _Protego!_ ” The Doctor easily deflected the spell, but Madam Hooch had seen the spells.

“What do you think you’re doing?” She snapped, both boys shifted their attention to Madam Hooch. “Back up to the castle, all of you, and straight to your Head of House’s office! Go! _Now!_ ” The Doctor, Fred, George, and Draco walked up to the castle in silence, staying on opposite sides of the hall, Draco quickly broke off to the dungeons to see Professor Snape, and the Doctor knocked on Professor McGonagall’s office.

“Explain yourself, boys.”

“Malfoy insulted our families.” Fred said,

“He said John liked Muggles because his parents died, but unlike Harry, they didn’t get the ‘ _honor_ ’ of being killed by You-Know-Who.” George agreed. Professor McGonagall’s mouth opened in shock, and suddenly, the all too familiar voice entered the room:

“ _Hem, hem._ ” The Doctor spun around, “May I help, Professor McGonagall?” Professor Umbridge asked in her most poisonous sweet voice. Blood rushed into Professor McGonagall’s face,

“Help?” she repeated in a constricted voice. “What do you mean, ‘help’?” Professor Umbridge moved forward into the office, still smiling her sickly smile.

“Why, I thought you might be grateful for a little extra authority.”

“You thought wrong.” Professor McGonagall said, turning her back on the woman, “Now, you two had better listen closely. I do not care what provokes you, you need to avoid violence. If something like that happens again, I need you to tell a teacher immediately, and they will deal with it.”

“ _Hem, hem_.” Professor McGonagall closed her eyes as though praying for patience as she turned her face toward Professor Umbridge again.

“ _Yes_?”

“I think they deserve detentions.” Professor McGonagall’s eyes flew open.

“But unfortunately,” she said, with an attempt at a reciprocal smile, “it is what I think that counts, as they are in my House, Dolores.”

“Well, _actually_ , Minerva,” simpered Professor Umbridge, “I think you’ll find that what I think _does_ count. Now, where is it? Cornelius just sent it… I mean,” she gave a little false laugh as she rummaged in her handbag, “the _Minister_ just sent it… Ah yes…” She had pulled out a piece of parchment that she now unfurled, clearing her throat fussily before starting to read what it said. “ _Hem, hem_ … ‘Educational Decree Number Twenty-Five…’”

“Not another one!” Exclaimed Professor McGonagall violently.

“Well, yes.” said Professor Umbridge, still smiling. “As a matter of fact, Minerva, it was you who made me see that we _needed_ a further amendment… You remember how you overrode me, when I was unwilling to allow the Gryffindor Quidditch team to re-form? How you took the case to Dumbledore, who insisted that the team be allowed to play? Well, now, I couldn’t have that. I contacted the Minister at once, and he quite agreed with me that the High Inquisitor has to have the power to strip pupils of privileges, or she – that is to say, I – would have less authority than common teachers! –”

“That’s who you reminded me of!” The Doctor suddenly jumped up, “Queen Ulfordojo of Shiskor! Always craving power! Nasty woman, mind you, but powerful.” The Doctor looked up to an utterly confused set of teachers.

“Well, as you can see, Minerva,” Professor Umbridge tried to continue, “how right I was to attempt to stop the Gryffindor team re-forming? _Dreadful_ tempers…”

“I’m not on the Gryffindor Quidditch team.” The Doctor interrupted,

“The Gryffindor House as a whole –”

“That’s a generalization, and a wrong one at that.” The Doctor piped up again,

“Detention, Smith. Don’t make it worse for yourself.” Professor McGonagall seemed to see the flicker of fear that crossed the Doctor’s eyes, and she turned to Professor Umbridge,

“What are you having him do in those detentions, Dolores?”

“Just lines and such.” She smiled sweetly, then continued, “Anyway, the amendment, ‘The High Inquisitor will henceforth have supreme authority over all punishments, sanctions, and removal of privileges pertaining to the students of Hogwarts, and the power to alter such punishments, sanctions, and removal of privileges as may have been ordered by other staff members. Signed, Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, Order of Merlin First Class, etc., etc…” She smiled, “I think a school-years detention for all three of them sounds reasonable.” There was a silence, “Well… good afternoon to you.” And with that, the Professor exited the room.

That night, the Doctor, Fred, and George walked to Professor Umbridge’s office. “Good evening, boys.” she smiled, handing the black quill for Fred and George to do lines with, and they began to write, cutting their hands open in the process, and the Doctor was back on the floor, screaming.

When the Doctor returned to the Gryffindor common room, Harry grabbed his arm, grinning, “Hagrid’s back!”


	14. Hagrid's Tale

The Doctor followed Harry, Ron, and Hermione through the portrait hole, Harry pulling out a silvery cloak. “It’s an invisibility cloak.” He explained, the Doctor raised an eyebrow, “That can barely hide the three of you, nevermind me too.” Harry hesitated, knowing the Doctor was right.

“I’ve got it.” The Doctor rustled through his pockets, “I’ve got a perception filter. They won’t even notice I’m here.”

“But we can see you.” Hermione pointed out,

“Yes,” The Doctor said, “But they just won’t notice it. They won’t want to.” Harry shrugged and the four of them continued on their way.

They crept across the entrance hall and then out into the silent, snowy grounds. Across the grounds, the Doctor saw a small cabin, little golden squares of light shone through the windows and smoke coiled up from the chimney.

Harry knocked on the door three times, a dog started barking frantically inside. “Hagrid, it’s us!” Harry called through the keyhole.

“Shoulda known!” said a pleased gruff voice. “Bin home three seconds… Out the way, Fang… _Out the way_ , yeh dozy dog…” The bolt was drawn back, the door creaked open, and a large head appeared in the gap. The man’s hair was matted with congealed blood, and his left eye had been reduced to a puffy slit amid a mass of purple-and-black bruises. Hermione screamed, “Merlin’s beard, keep it down!” said Hagrid hastily, staring wildly over their heads. “Under the cloak, are yeh? Well, get in, get in.”

“I’m sorry!” Hermione gasped as they removed the cloak and the Doctor removed his perception filter. “I just – oh, _Hagrid_!”

“It’s nuthin’, it’s nuthin’!: said Hagrid hastily, shutting the door behind them and hurrying to close all the curtains, but Hermione continued to gaze at him in horror. He then looked at the Doctor, “Who’re you?”

“I’m John Smith.” The Doctor said,

“You can trust him.” Harry said, Hagrid gave a nod.

“What happened to you?” Hermione finally asked,

“Told yeh, _nuthin_ ’.” said Hagrid firmly. “Want a cuppa?”

“Come off it,” said Ron, “You’re in a right state!”

“I’m tellin’ yeh, I’m fine.” said Hagrid,  
“You’re almost as bad as John about this.” Ron mumbled, “He won’t tell us anything either.”

“What do yeh mean?” Hagrid asked,

“He avoids questions and stuff, I dunno. He never makes any sense.” Everyone turned to the Doctor, who just said,

“You ought to go to the hospital wing.”

“That’s exactly what we mean.” Hermione shot at the Doctor, then turned back to Hagrid, “But he is right, Hagrid, some of those cuts look nasty.”

“I’m dealin’ with it, all righ’?” said Hagrid repressively. He walked across the enormous wooden table that stood in the middle of his cabin and twitched aside tea towel that had been lying on it. Underneath was a raw, bloody, green-tinged steak, slightly larger than the average car tire.

“You’re not going to eat that, are you, Hagrid?” said Ron, leaning in for a closer look. “It looks poisonous.”

“It’s s’posed ter look like that, it’s dragon meat,” Hagrid said. “An’ I didn’ get it ter eat.” He picked up the steak and slapped it over the left side of his face. Greenish blood trickled down his beard as he gave a soft moan of satisfaction. “Tha’s better. It helps with the stingin’, yeh know.”

“So, are you going to tell us what’s happened to you?” asked Harry,

“Can’, Harry. Top secret. More’n me job’s worth ter tell yeh that.”

“Did the giants beat you up, Hagrid?” asked Hermione quietly. Hagrid’s fingers slipped on the dragon steak, and it slid squelchy onto his chest.

“Giants?” said Hagrid, catching the steak before it reached his belt and slapping it back over his face. “Who said anythin’ abou’ giants? Who yeh bin talkin’ to? Who’s told yeh what I’ve – who’s said I’ve bin – eh?”

“We guessed,” said Hermione apologetically.

“Oh, yeh did, did yeh?” said Hagrid, fixing her sternly with the eye that was not hidden by the steak.

“It was kind of… obvious.” said Ron, Harry nodded. Hagrid glared at them, then snorted, threw the steak onto the table again and strode back to the kettle, which was now whistling.

“Never known kids like you fer knowin’ more’ yeh oughta.” He muttered, splashing boiling water into four of his bucket-shaped mugs. “An’ I’m not complimentin’’ yeh, neither. Nosy, some’d call it. Interferin’.” But his beard twitched

“So you have been to look for giants?” said Harry, grinning as he sat down at the table. Hagrid set his tea in front of each of them, sat down, picked up his steak again, and slapped it back over his face.

“Yeah, all righ’,” he grunted, “I have.”

“Have you been recruiting?” The Doctor asked, Hagrid’s eyes widened,

“How d’yeh know abou’ that?” He demanded,

“I know a lot more than you think. You’re trying to get them on our side before the Death Eaters get there first.”

“Who told yeh that?”  
“Hagrid, if giants are so big, how come Muggles don’t see them?”

“They do,” said Hagrid darky. “O’ny their deaths are always put down ter mountaineerin’ accidents, aren’ they?” He adjusted the steak a little so that it covered the worst of the bruising.

“Come on, Hagrid, tell us what you’ve been up to!” said Ron. “Tell us about being attacked by giants and Harry can tell you about being attacked by dementors –” The Doctor spun around,

“You got attacked by dementors?”

“Did Harry not tell you?” Hermione asked the Doctor curiously, the Doctor shook his head.

“They turned up in Little Winging and attacked my cousin and me, and then the Ministry of Magic expelled me –”

“WHAT?” Hagrid gasped,

“– and I had to go to a hearing and everything, but tell us about the giants first.”

“You were _expelled_?”

“Tell us about your summer and I’ll tell you about mine.” Hagrid glared at Harry through his one open eye. Harry looked right back, an expression of innocent determination on his face.

“Oh, all righ’,” Hagrid said in a resigned voice. “Well, Madame Maxime and I set off righ’ after term ended. Yeah, it was jus’ the pair of us. An’ I’ll tell yeh this, she’s not afraid of roughin’ it, Olympe. Yeh know, she’s a fine, well-dressed woman, an’ knowin’ where we was goin’ I wondered ‘ow she’d feel abou’ clamberin’ over boulders an’ sleepin’ in caves an’  tha’, bu’ she never complained once.

“You knew where you were going?” Harry asked. “You knew where the giants were?”

“Well, Dumbledore knew an’ he told us,” said Hagrid.

“Are they hidden?” asked Ron, “Is it a secret where they are?” The Doctor raised an eyebrow,

“They’re hard to miss, Ron. It would be impressive if they could keep it a secret.” Hagrid nodded,

“Most wizards aren’ bothered where they are, s’long as it’s a good long way away. But where they are’s very difficult ter get ter, fer humans anyway, so we needed Dumbledore’s instructions. Took us abou’ a month ter get there –”

“A _month_?” said Ron, as though he’d never heard of a journey lasting so long. “But – why couldn’t you just grab a Portkey or something?”

“We’re bein’ watched, Ron.” he said gruffly.

“What d’you mean?”

“Yeh don’ understand,” said Hagrid. “The Ministry’s keepin’ an eye on Dumbledore an’ anyone they reckon’s in league with him, an’ –”

“We know about that.” said Harry quickly, “We know about the Ministry watching Dumbledore –”

“So you couldn’t use magic to get there?” asked Ron, looking thunderstruck. “You had to act like Muggles _all the way_?”

“Well, not exactly all the way,” said Hagrid cagily. “We jus’ had ter be careful, ‘cause Olympe an’ me, we stick out a bit –” Ron made a stifled noise somewhere between a snort and a sniff and hastily took a gulp of tea. “– so we’re not hard ter follow. We was pretendin’ we was goin’ on holiday together, so we got inter France an’ we made like we was headin’ fer where Olympe’s school is, ‘cause we knew we was bein’ tailed by someone from the Ministry. We had to go slow, ‘cause I’m not really s’posed ter use magic an’ we knew the Ministry’d be lookin’ fer a reason ter tun us in. But we managed ter give the berk tailin’ us the slip round about’ Dee-John. We changed a bit o’ magic after that, and it wasn’ a bad journey. Ran inter a couple o’ mad trolls on the Polish border, an’ I had a sligh’ disagreement with a vampire in a pub in Minsk, but apart from tha’, couldn’t’a bin smoother. An’ then we reached the place, an’ we started trekkin’ up through the mountains, lookin’ fer signs of ‘em… We had ter lay off the magic once we got near ‘em. Partly ‘cause they don’ like wizards an’ we didn’ want ter put their backs up too soon, and partly ‘cause Dumbledore had warned us You-Know-Who was bound ter be after the giants an’ all. Said it was odds on he’d sent a messenger off ter them already. Told us ter be very careful of drawin’ attention ter ourselves as we got nearer in case there was Death Eaters around.” Hagrid paused for a long draft of tea.

“Go on!” said Harry urgently.

“Found ‘em.” said Hagrid baldly. “Went over a ridge one nigh’ an’ there was, spread ou’ underneath us. Little fires burnin’ below an’ huge shadows… It was like watchin’ bits o’ the mountain movin’.”

“How big are they?” asked Ron in a hushed voice.

“‘Bout twenty feet,” said Hagrid casually. “Some o’ the bigger ones mighta bin twenty-five.” The Doctor nodded, they weren’t the largest giants he’d ever encountered, but they were sizable.

“How many were there?” asked Harry.

“I reckon abou’ seventy or eighty.” said Hagrid,

“Is that all?” said Hermione.

“They’ve been dying out for what, a century or so? Wizards killed a few, but they’ve mostly been killing each other and they’re dying out faster than ever.” The Doctor admitted solemnly, “They’re not meant to live so close together like this. Wizards forced them to live so far away, they had no choice but to live together, for safety.”

“So,” said Harry, looking at Hagrid, “you saw them and then what?”

“Well, we waited till morning, didn’ want ter go sneakin’ up on ‘em in the dark, fer our own safety,” said Hagrid. “‘Bout three in the mornin’ they fell asleep jus’ where they was sittin’. We didn’ dare sleep. Fer one thing, we wanted ter make sure none of ‘em woke up an’ came up where we were, an’ fer another, the snorin’ was unbelievable. Caused an avalanche near mornin’. Anyway, once it was light we wen’ down ter see ‘em.”

“Just like that?” said Ron, looking awestruck. “You just walked right into a giant camp?”

“Well, Dumbledore’d told us how ter do it,” said Hagrid. “Give the Gurg gifts, show some respect, yeh know.”

“Give the _what_ gift?” asked Harry,

“It’s their chief.” The Doctor quickly explained,

“How could you tell which one was the Gurg?” asked Ron. The Doctor and Hagrid both made a noise of amusement,

“No problem.” Hagrid said, “He was the biggest, the ugliest, an’ the laziest. Sittin’ there waitin’ ter be brought food by the others. Dead goats an’ such like. Name o’ Karkus. I’d put him at twenty-two twenty-three feet, an’ the weight of a couple o’ bull elephants. Skin like rhino hide an’ all.”

“And you just walked up to him?” Hermione asked breathlessly,

“Well… _down_ ter him, where he was lyin’ in the valley. THey was in this dip between four pretty high mountains, see, beside a mountain lake, an’ Karkus was lyin’ by the lake roarin’ at the others ter feed him an’ his wife. Olympe an’ I went down the mountainside –”

“But didn’t they try and kill you when they saw you?” asked Ron incredulously.

“It was def’nitely on some of their minds,” said Hagrid, shrugging, “but we did what Dumbledore told us ter do, which was ter hold our gift up high an’ keep our eyes on the Gurg an’  ignore the others. So tha’s what we did. An’ the rest of ‘em went quiet an’ watched us pass an’ we got right up ter Karkus’s feet an’ we bowed an’ put our present down in front o’ him.”

“What do you give a giant?” asked Ron eagerly. “Food?”

“Nah, he can get food all righ’ fer himself,” said Hagrid. “We took him magic, Giants like magic, jus’ don’ like us usin’ it against ‘em. Anyway, that firs’ day we gave him a branch o’ Gubraithian fire.”

“A branch of –?” Harry said,

“Everlasting fire.” The Doctor explained,

“Well, anyway,” said Hagrid, “Dumbledore’d bewitched this branch to burn evermore, which isn’t somethin’ any wizard could do, an’ so I lies it down in the snow by Karkus’s feet and says, ‘A gift to the Gurg of giants from Albus Dumbledore, who sends his respectful greetings.’”

“And what did Karkus say?” asked Hagrid eagerly.

“Nothin’,” said Hagrid. “Didn’ speak English.”

“You’re kidding!” Harry said,

“Didn’ matter,” said Hagrid imperturbable, “Dumbledore had warned us tha’ migh’ happen. Karkus knew enough to yell fer a couple o’ giants who knew our lingo an’ they translated fer us.”

“I assume he enjoyed your gift.” The Doctor said,

“Oh yeah, it went down a storm once they understood what it was.” said Hagrid, turning his dragon steak over to press the cooler side to his swollen eye. “Very pleased. So then I said, ‘Albus Dumbledore asks the Gurg to speak with his messenger when he returns tomorrow with another gift.’”

“Why couldn’t you speak to them that day?” Hermione asked,

“Giants aren’t very trusting.” The Doctor said, “Returning with another gift shows that they keep their promises.”

“So we bowed outta the way an’ went off an’ found ourselves a nice little cave ter spend that night in, an’ the followin’ mornin’ we went back an’ this time we found Karkus sittin’ up waitin’ fer us lookin’ all eager.”

“And you spoke with him?” the Doctor asked,

“Oh yeah. Firs’ we presented him with a nice battle helmet – goblin-made an’ indestructible, yeh know – an’ then we sat down an’ we talked.”  
“What did he say?” Hermione asked with interest,

“Not much,” said Hagrid. “Listened mostly. But there were good signs. He’d heard o’ Dumbledore, heard he’d argued against the killin’ of the last giants in Britain. Karkus seemed ter be quite int’rested in what Dumbledore had ter say. An’ a few o’ the others, ‘specially the ones who had some English, they gathered round an’ listened too. We were hopeful when we left that day. Promised ter come back next day with another present. But that night wen’ wrong.”

“What happened?” The Doctor asked,

“Well, like I say, they’re not meant ter live together, giants,” said Hagrid sadly. “Not in big groups like that. They can’ help themselves, they half kill each other every few weeks. The men fight each other an’ the woman fight each other, the remnants of the old trives fight each other, an’ that’s even without squabbles over food an’ the best fires an’ sleepin’ spots. Yeh’d think, seein’ as how their whole race is abou’ finished, they’d lay off each other, but…” Hagrid sighed deeply. “That night a fight broke out, we saw it from the mouth of our cave, lookin’ down on the valley. Went on fer hours, yeh wouldn’ believe the noise. An’ when the sun came up the snow was scarlet an’ his head was lyin’ at the bottom o’ the lake.” The Doctor hung his head in mourning.

“Who’s head?” gasped Hermione.

“Karkus’s,” said Hagrid heavily. “There was a new Gurg, Golgomath.” he sighed deeply. “Well, we hadn’ bargained on a new Gurg two days after we’d made friendly contact with the firs’ one, an’ we had a funny feelin’ Golgomath wouldn’ be so keen ter listen to us, but we had ter try.”

“You went to speak to him?” Asked Ron incredulously. “After you’d watched him rip off another giant’s head?”

“Course we did,” said Hagrid, “we hadn’ gone all that way ter give up after two days! We wen’ down with the next present we’d meant ter give ter Karkus. I knew it was no go before I’d opened me mouth. He was sitting there wearin’ Karkus’s helmet, leerin’ at us as we got nearer. He’s massive, one o’ the biggest ones there. Black hair an’ matchin’ teeth an’ a necklace o’ bones. Human-lookin’ bones, some of ‘em. Well, I gave t a go – heald out out a great roll o’ dragon skin – an’ said ‘A gift fer the Gurg of the giants –’ Nex’ thing I knew, I was hangin’ upside down in the air by me feet, two of his mates had grabbed me.” Hermione clapped her hands to her mouth.

“How did you get out of _that_?” Harry asked,

“Wouldn’ta done if Olympe hadn’ bin there,” said Hagrid. “She pulled out her wand an’ did some o’ the fastes’ spellwork I’ve ever seen. Ruddy marvelous. Hit the two holdin’ me right in the eyes with Conjunctivitis Curses an’ they dropped me straightaway – bu’ we were in trouble then, ‘cause we’d used magic against ‘em, an’ that’s what giants hate abou’ wizards. We had ter leg it an’ we knew there was no way we was going ter be able ter march inter camp again.”

“Blimey, Hagrid.” said Ron quietly.

“So how come it’s taken you so long to get home if you were only there for three days?” asked Hermione.

“We didn’ leave after three days!” said Hagrid, looking outraged. “Dumbledore was relyin’ on us!”

“But you’ve just said there was no way you could go back!” Ron said,

“Not by daylight, we couldn’, no. We just had ter rethink a bit. Spent a couple o’ days layin’ low up in the cave an’ watchin’. An’ wha’ we saw wasn’ good.”

“Did he rip off more heads?” asked Hermione, sounding squeamish.

“No.” said Hagrid, “I wish he had.”

“What did he do?” The Doctor asked,

“I mean we soon found out that he didn’ object ter all wizards – just us.”

“The Death Eaters.” The Doctor concluded.

“Yep,” said Hagrid darkly. “Couple of ‘em were visitin’ him ev’ry day, bringin’ gifts ter the Gurg, an’ he wasn’ dangling them upside down.”

“How d’you know they were Death Eaters?” Ron asked,

“Because I recognized one of ‘em.” Hagrid growled. “Macnair, remember him? Bloke they sent ter kill Buckbeak? Maniac, he is. Likes killin’ as much as Golgomath, no wonder they were gettin’ on so well.”

“So Macnair’s persuaded the giants to join You-Know-Who?” said Hermione desperately.

“Hold yer hippogriffs, I haven’ finished me story yet!” said Hagrid indignantly, who, considering he hadn’t wanted to tell them anything in the first place, now seemed to be rather enjoying himself. “Me an’ Olympe talked it over an’ we agreed, jus’ ‘cause the Gurg looked like favorin’ You-Know-Who didn’ mean all of ‘em would. We had ter cry an’ persuade some o’ the others, the ones who hadn’ wanted Golgomath as Gurg.”

“How could you tell which ones they were?” Ron asked,

“Well, they were the ones bein’ beaten to a pulp, weren’ they?” said Hagrid patiently. “The ones with any sense were keepin’ outta Golgomath’s way, hidin’ out in caves roun’ the gully jus’ like we were. So we decided we’d go pokin’ round the caves by night an’ see if we couldn’ persuade a few o’ them.”

“You went poking around dark caves looking for giants?” said Ron with awed respect in his voice.

“Well, it wasn’ the giants who worried us most,” said Hagrid. “We were more concerned abou’ the Death Eaters. Dumbledore had told us before we wen’ not ter tangle with ‘em if we could avoid it, an’ the trouble was they knew we was around – ‘spect Golgomath told them abou’ us. At night when the giants were sleepin’ an’ we wanted ter be creepin’ inter the caves, Macnair an’ the other one were sneakin’ round the mountains lookin’ fer us. I was hard put to stop Olympe jumpin’ out at them,” said Hagrid, the corners of his mouth lifting his wild beard. “She was rarin’ ter attack ‘em… she’s somethin’ when she’s roused, Olympe… Fiery, yeh know… ‘spect it’s the French in her…” Hagrid gazed misty-eyed into the fire.

“So what happened? Did you ever get near any of the other giants?” Harry asked,

“What? Oh… oh yeah, we did. Yeah, on the third night after Karkus was killed, we crept outta the cave we’d bin hidin’ in and headed back down inter the gully, keepin’ our eyes skinned fer the Death Eaters. Got inside a few o’ the caves, no go – then, in abou’ the sixth one, we found three giants hidin’.”

“Cave must’ve been cramped.” said Ron.

“Wasn’ room ter swing a kneazle.” said Hagrid.

“Didn’t they attack you when they saw you?” Asked Hermione.

“Probably woulda done if they’d bin in any condition,” said Hagrid, “but they was badly hurt, all three o’ them. Golgomath’s lot had beaten ‘em unconcious; they’d woken up an’ crawled inter the nearest shelter they could find. Anyway, one o’ them had a bit of English an’ ‘e translated fer the others, an’ what we had ter say didn’ seem ter go down too badly. So we kep’ goin’ back, visitin’ the wounded… I reckon we had abou’ six or seven o’ them convinced at one poin’.”

“Six or seven?” said Ron eagerly. “Well that’s not bad – are they going to come over here and start fighting You-Know-Who with us?”

“Who do you mean ‘at one point,’ Hagrid?” Hermione asked, Hagrid looked at her sadly,

“Golgomath’s lot raided the caves. The ones tha’ survived didn’ wan’ no more ter do with us after that.”

“So…so there aren't any giants coming?” asked Ron, looking disappointed.

“Nope.” said Hagrid, heaving a deep sigh as he turned over his steak again and applied the cooler side to his face. “But we did wha’ we meant ter do, we gave ‘em Dumbledore’s message an’ some o’ them heard it an’ I ‘spect some o’ them’ll remember it. Jus’ maybe, them that don’ want ter stay around Golgomath’ll move outta the mountains, an’ there’s gotta be a chance they’ll remember Dumbledore's friendly to ‘em… Could be they’ll come…”

Snow was filling up the window now. “Hagrid?” said Hermione quietly after a while.

“Mmm?”

“Did you… was there any sign of… did you hear anything about your… your… mother while you were there?” Hagrid’s unobscured eye rested upon her, and Hermione looked rather scared.

“I’m sorry… I… forget it–”

“Dead.” Hagrid grunted, “Died years ago. They told me.” The Doctor nodded,

“I’m sorry, Hagrid.”

“‘S not yer fault.” Hagrid said, waving the Doctor away. Without warning, there was a rapping on the door. Hermione dropped her tea, the Doctor grabbing it before the cup hit the floor. Sliding on his perception filter, he ordered,

“Get under the cloak.” Harry, Ron, and Hermione slipped from sight under the cloak as the Doctor quickly whisked away the teacups. Hagrid opened the door to reveal Professor Umbridge standing in the doorway wearing her green tweed cloak and matching hat with earflaps. Lips pursed, she leaned back so as to see Hagrid’s face; she barely reached his navel.

“ _So_ ,” she said slowly and loudly, as though speaking to somebody deaf. “You’re Hagrid, are you?” Without waiting for an answer, she strolled into the room, her bulging eyes rolling in ever direction, her gaze sliding past the Doctor smoothly.

“Er – I don’t want ter be rude,” said Hagrid, staring at her, “but who the ruddy hell are you?”

“My name is Dolores Umbridge.” Her eyes were sweeping the cabin.

“Dolores Umbridge?” Hagrid said, sounding thoroughly confused. “I thought you were one o’ them Ministry – don’ you work with Fudge?”

“I was Senior Undersecretary to the Minister, yes,” said Professor Umbridge, now pacing around the cabin, taking in every tiny detail within, from the haverstock against the wall to the abandoned traveling cloak. “I am now the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher –”

“Tha’s brave of yeh,” said Hagrid, “There’s not many’d take tha’ job anymore –”

“– and Hogwarts High Inquisitor,” said Professor Umbridge, giving no sign that she had heard him. “I heard voices.” she said quietly,

“I was talkin’ ter Fang.” said Hagrid stoutly, gesturing to the large boarhound stretching on the floor,

“And he was talking back to you?”

“Well… in a manner o’ speakin’,” said Hagrid, looking uncomfortable. “I sometimes say Fang’s near enough human –”

“There are four sets of footprints in the snow leading from the castle doors to your cabin,” said Professor Umbridge sleekly. The Doctor heard Hermione gasp loudly, and Harry clamp a hand over her mouth. Fortunately, Professor Umbridge didn’t seem to have heard them,

“Well, I on’y jus’ got back,” said Hagrid, waving an enormous hand at the haversack. “Maybe someone came ter call earlier an’ I missed ‘em.”

“There are no footsteps leading away from your cabin door.”

“Well I… I don’ know why that’d be…” said Hagrid, tugging nervously at his beard and again glancing toward the corner where Harry, Ron, and Hermione were standing invisibly, completely glossing over where the Doctor stood. Professor Umbridge wheeled around and strode the length of the cabin, looking around carefully. The Doctor slid out the back door when the Professor turned away, pulling Ron, Harry, and Hermione with him. They sat outside the window, hearing Professor Umbridge’s footsteps pace around the cabin.

“What has happened to you? How did you sustain those injuries?” they could hear the Professor asking,

“Oh, I… had a bit of an accident,” he said lamely.

“What sort of accident?”

“I-I tripped.”

“You tripped,” she repeated coolly.

“Yeah, tha’s right. Over… over a friend’s broomstick. I don’ fly meself. Well, look at the size o’ me, I don’ reckon there’s a broomstick that’d hold me. Friend o’ mine breeds Abrazan horses, I dunno if you’ve ever seen ‘em, big breasts, winged, yeh know, I’ve had a bit of a ride on one o’ them an’ it was –”

“Where have you been?” asked Professor Umbridge, cutting coolly through Hagrid’s babbling.

“Where’ve I…”

“Been, yes.” she said. “Term started more than two months ago. Another teacher has had to cover your classes. None of your colleagues has been able to give me any information as to your whereabouts. You left no address. Where have you been?” There was a pause,

“I– I’ve been away for me health.” he said,

“For your health.” said Professor Umbridge, “I see.”

“Yeah,” said Hagrid, “bit o’ – o’ fresh air, yeh know –”

“Yes, as gamekeeper, fresh air must be so difficult to come by,” said Professor Umbridge sweetly.

“Well – change o’ scene, yeh know –”

“Mountain scenery?” said Professor Umbridge swiftly. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and the Doctor exchanged a look, she knew.

“Mountains?” Hagrid repeated, clearly thinking fast. “Nope, South of France fer me. Bit o’ sun an’…an’ sea.”

“Really?” said Professor Umbridge, “You don’t have much of a tan.”

“Yeah… well… sensitive skin,” said Hagrid,

“I shall, of course be informing the Minister of your late return.” Professor Umbridge said after a moment of hesitation,

“Righ’,” said Hagrid.

“You ought to know too that as High Inquisitor it is my unfortunate but necessary duty to inspect my fellow teachers. So I daresay we shall meet again soon enough.”

“You’re inspectin’ us?” Hagrid echoed blankly,

“Oh yes,” said Professor Umbridge softly, “The Ministry is determined to weed out unsatisfactory teachers, Hagrid. Good night.” She left, closing the door behind her, and the Doctor, Harry, Ron, and Hermione returned to the cabin through the back door.

“She’s goin’ back ter the castle,” Hagrid said, “Blimey… inspectin’ people, is she?”

“Yeah,” said Harry, “Trelawney's on probation already…”

“Um… what sort of thing are you planning to do with us in class, Hagrid?” Hermione asked,

“Oh, don’ you worry abou’ that, I’ve got a great load o’ lessons planned,” said Hagrid enthusiastically, scooping up his dragon steak from the table and slapping it over his eye again. “I’ve bin keepin’ a couple o’ creatures saved fer yer O.W.L. year, you wait, they’re somethin’ really special.”

“Erm… special in what way?” asked Hermione tentatively.

“I’m not sayin’,” said Hagrid happily. “I don’ want ter spoil the surprise.”

“Look, Hagrid,” said Hermione urgently, dropping all pretense, “Professor Umbridge won’t be at all happy if you bring anything to class that’s too dangerous –”

“Dangerous?” said Hagrid, looking genially bemused. “Don’ be silly, I wouldn’ give yeh anythin’ dangerous! I mean, all righ’, they can look after themselves –”

“Hagrid, you’ve got to pass Umbridge’s inspection, and to do that it would really be better if she saw you teaching us how to look after porlocks, how to tell the difference between knarls and hedgehogs, stuff like that!” said Hermione earnestly,

“But that’s not very interestin’, Hermione,” said Hagrid. “The stuff I’ve got’s much more impressive. I’ve been bringin’ ‘em on fer years, I reckon I’ve got the on’y domestic herd in Britain –”

“Hagrid… please…” said Hermione, a note of real desperation in her voice. “Umbridge is looking for any excuse to get rid of teachers she thinks are too close to Dumbledore. Please, Hagrid, teach us something dull that’s bound to come up in our O.W.L.…” But Hagrid merely yawned widely and cast a one-eyed look of longing toward the vast bed in the corner.

“Lis’en, it’s been a long day an’ it’s late,” he said patting Hermione gently on the shoulder, “Look, don’ you go worryin’ abou’ me, I promise yeh I’ve got really good stuff planned fer yer lessons now I’m back… Now you lot had better get back up to the castle, an’ don’ forget ter wipe yer footprints behind yeh!”

“I dunno if you got through to him.” Ron said a short while later when, having checked that the coast was clear, they walked back up to the castle through the thickening snow, leaving no trace behind them due to the Obliteration Charm the Doctor was performing as they went.

“Then I’ll go back again tomorrow,” said Hermione determinedly. “I’ll plan his lessons for him if I have to. I don’t care if she throws out Trawlawney but she’s not taking Hagrid!”


	15. John's Secret

Sunday morning, Hermione plowed her way back to Hagrid’s cabin through two feet of snow. The Doctor, Harry, and Ron decided not to go with her, as Harry and Ron both had homework, and they had wanted the Doctor to help.

Hermione returned from Hagrid’s just before lunch, shivering slightly, her robes damp to the knees.

“How’d it go?” The Doctor asked as she returned,

“Got all his lessons planned for him?” Ron asked,

“Well, I tried,” she said dully, sinking into a chair beside Harry. She pulled out her wand and gave it a complicated little wave so that hot air streamed as they dried out. “He wasn’t even there when I arrived. I was knocking for at least half an hour. And then he came stumping out of the forest –”

“What’s he keeping in there? Did he say?” Harry asked,

“No,” said Hermione miserably. “He says he wants them to be a surprise.  I tried to explain about Umbridge, but he just doesn’t get it. He kept saying nobody in their right minds would rather study knarls than chimaeras – oh i don’t think he’s _got_ a chimaera,” she added at the appalled look on Harry and Ron’s faces, “but that’s not for the lack of trying from what he said about how hard it is to get eggs… I don’t know how many times I told him he’d be better off following Grubbly-Plank’s plan, I honestly don’t think he listened to half of what I said. He’s in a bit of a funny mood, you know. He still won’t say how he got all those injuries…”

“Let’s go see what it is.” The Doctor jumped up,

“What?” Hermione stared at him,

“Let’s go to the forest and find whatever he’s keeping there.” The Doctor said,

“Look John, I know you’ve never been to the forest, but there are creatures in the forest.”  
“Like werewolves and acromantula and such, I know, Allons-y!” The Doctor jumped up, Harry, Ron, and Hermione grabbing Harry’s invisibility cloak.

“John!” They called after him as he sprinted to the forest. The Doctor waited for them, at the edge of the forest as Hermione finished covering their tracks in the snow. They walked into the forest where Hermione had seen Hagrid come from, when the Doctor saw them,

“Thestrals.” He breathed,

“What is it? I don’t see anything?” Hermione said, Ron looked equally confused, but Harry was staring at the creatures. They had a pair of blank, white, shining eyes and a dragonish face. They had a skeletal body of a great, black horse and it was swishing its long black tail. The Doctor ran a hand over it’s back,

“What’s your name?” He asked the thestral,

 _Ismaal._ The thestral answered,

“Pleasure to meet you.” The Doctor grinned,

“Um… you’re talking to the air…” said Ron, the Doctor grinned, then turned to Harry,

“You can see them, can’t you?” Harry nodded

“What are they?” He asked,

“Thestrals.” The Doctor said, “You can only see them if you’ve seen someone die. That gives them a bit of a negative reputation, but they’re beautiful creatures.”

“Oh.” Harry’s voice was small,

“Who did you see die?” The Doctor asked softly,

“Cedric – last year – Voldemort killed him.” The Doctor nodded,

“It’ll get better. I know it’s hard, but it will.”

“Who did you see die?” Hermione asked the Doctor, who said nothing, just turned back to the thestrals.

When Harry, Ron, and Hermione returned from their Care of Magical Creatures class, they were cursing. “That foul, lying, twisting old gargoyle!” Stormed Hermione,

“What happened?” The Doctor asked, Harry began to explain what happened to the Doctor as Hermione kept going, “You see what she’s up to? It’s her thing about half-breeds all over again – she’s trying to make out Hagrid’s some kind of dim-witted troll, just because he had a giantess for a mother – and oh, it’s not fair, that really wasn’t a bad lesson at all – I mean, all right, if it had been Blast-Ended Skrewts again, but thestrals are fine – in fact, for Hagrid, they’re really good.” From what Harry told the Doctor, Professor Umbridge’s inspection had not gone well.

 

December arrived, bringing with it more snow. Christmas was approaching, and Ron was talking about the holidays to Harry. “I’m going back to the Burrow. Mum said you could come too!” They noticed the Doctor and Jack enter the room and Harry asked,

“Where are you going for the holidays?” the Doctor and Jack exchanged a glance,

“I guess we’re staying here.” Jack said, “We’ve got nowhere to go.”

“I bet you could come with us to the Burrow!” Ron exclaimed, “That would be brilliant! I’ll send mum an owl!” Ron went running off.

 

That night (Well, very, very early morning), Harry came bursting into the Doctor’s dormitory, “John!” He gasped,

“What is it?” The Doctor was on his feet (He and Jack had been chatting about the thestrals in the Doctor’s dormitory)

“Ron’s dad’s been attacked!”

“How do you know?” The Doctor asked,

“I saw it in a dream, and it was real.” The Doctor sat Harry down,

“Let me see.” Placing his fingers on Harry’s temples, he gave the instruction to place up doors in front of anything he didn’t want the Doctor to see. He stared at the memory, there was a connection, it was real. He was watching the memory of a snake slithering up to who could only have been Mr. Weasley. Pulling himself out of Harry’s head, he jumped up,

“It’s real.” the Doctor confirmed, “Professor McGonagall will listen.” They sprinted out of the room to find her. She was in her dressing gown,

“Mr. Potter, Mr. Smith, Mr. Harkness what is it?”

“It’s Mr. Weasley. He’s been attacked by a Burmese Python, don’t ask how we know, I’ll explained, but he needs assistance now.”

“We need to talk to the headmaster.” She said, and the four of them went rushing to the headmaster’s office. After informing Professor Dumbledore of the events, he raised the alarm, then asked the boys to explain.

“So, I was sleeping –” Harry began, but the Doctor cut him off,

“You know that link in his head?” Professor Dumbledore stared at the Doctor,

“How do you know about that?”

“I just do, and tonight, that link connected with the python. It attacked Mr. Weasley in the department of Mysteries. I assume this has something to do with Voldemort, he’s planning something, and this department is a part of it.” the Doctor nodded, and a man in a portrait returned and said,

“They’ve taken him to St. Mungo’s, Dumbledore… They carried him past under my portrait… He looks bad.”

“Phineas! _Phineas!_ PHINEAS!” Professor Dumbledore called, and a man in a portrait said,

“Did someone call?”

“I need you to visit your other portrait again, Phineas, I’ve got another message.”

“Visit my other portrait?” said Phineas in a reedy voice, giving a long, fake yawn. “Oh no, Dumbledore, I am too tired tonight…”

“Insubordination, sir!” Roared another portrait, “Dereliction of duty!”

“We are honor-bound to give service to the present Headmaster of Hogwarts!” Another cried out, “Shame on you, Phineas!”

“Oh, very _well_ ,” sighed Phineas, “Though he may well have destroyed my picture by now, he’s done most of the family –”

“Sirius knows not to destroy your portrait.” said Dumbledore, “You are to give him the message that Arthur Weasley has been gravely injured and that his wife, children, Harry Potter, Mr. Smith, and Mr. Harkness will be arriving at his hours shortly. Do you understand?”

“Arthur Weasley, injured, wife and children and Harry Potter and two other children coming to stay,” recited Phineas in a bored voice. “Yes, yes… very well…” He sloped away from the portrait and disappeared from view.

“Minerva, I need you to go and wake the Weasley children, and, Mr. Potter and Mr. Harkness, if you don’t mind, I’d like to talk to Mr. Smith alone.” There was a nod and suddenly, the room was empty. Fawkes, Professor Dumbledore’s phoenix, flying away to notify Mrs. Weasley.   
“How do you know about Harry’s link to Voldemort?” He asked,

“It’s all there in his head, Professor.” The Doctor said simply,

“And how do you see into his head?”

“I’ve got a stronger psychic field than most wizards,” the Doctor said cautiously, “And I can get a better read of people than most can.” Suddenly, the door banged open and Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny came running in, Harry and Jack trailing behind them.

“What’s going on?” Ginny asked, looking frightened, “Professor McGonagall says dad’s been hurt!”

“Your father has been injured in the course of his work for the Order of the Phoenix,” said Professor Dumbledore, “He has been taken to St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. I am sending you back to Sirius’s house, which is much more convenient for the hospital than the Burrow. You will meet your mother there.”

“How’re we going?” asked Fred, looking shaken. “Floo powder?”

“No,” said Professor Dumbledore, “Floo powder is not safe at the moment, the Network is being watched. You will be taking a Portkey.” He indicated to the old kettle lying innocently on his desk. “We are just waiting for Phineas Nigellus to report back… I wish to be sure that the coast is clear before sending you –” There was a flash of flame in the very middle of the office, leaving behind a single golden feather that floated gently to the floor. “It is Fawkes’s warning,” said Professor Dumbledore, catching the feather as it fell. “She must know you’re beds… Minerva go and head her off – tell her any story –” Professor McGonagall was gone in a swish of tartan.

“He says he’ll be delighted,” said a bored voice behind Professor Dumbledore, Phineas had reappeared in front of his Slytherin banner. “My great-great-grandson has always had odd taste in houseguests…”

“Come here, then,” said Professor Dumbledore to Harry, the Doctor, Jack, and the Weasleys, “And quickly before anyone else joins us…” Everyone gathered around the headmaster’s desk. “You have all used a Portkey before?” asked Professor Dumbledore, everyone but the Doctor and Jack nodded, the Doctor shrugged,

“No, but we’ll figure it out. Can’t be much worse than a vortex manipulator.” He shot Jack a look, Jack was rolling his eyes,

“It’s uncomfortable but effective.” Everyone was staring at them,

“Anyway, on the count of three then,” Professor Dumbledore said, “One… two… three!” There was a powerful jerk behind the Doctor’s navel, and the ground vanished beneath their feet. His hand was glued to the kettle, as they banged into the others and sped forwards in a swirl of colours and a rush of wind. Suddenly, they collided with the ground. The kettle clattered to the ground somewhere close and a voice was screaming, “Back again, the blood traitor brats, is it true their father’s dying…?”

“OUT!” roared a second voice, the Doctor jumped to his feet exchanging a glance with Jack,

“Sorry, I was wrong. It was much worse than a vortex manipulator.” Jack smirked, and they turned to the voice. Sirius was hurrying toward them all, looking anxious. He was unshaven and still in his day clothes; there was also a whiff of stale drink about him.

“What’s going on?” he asked, stretching out a hand to help Ginny up, “Phineas Nigellus said Arthur’s been badly injured –”

“Ask Harry.” said Fred.

“Yeah, I want to hear this for myself.” said George. Everyone was looking at Harry,

“It was –” Harry began, “I had a – a kind of – vision…” Harry told them what he and the Doctor had seen, though the Doctor noticed he altered the story to make it sound as though he had watched from the sidelines as the snake attacked, rather than from behind the snake’s own eyes. When Harry finished, everyone continued to stare at him,  
“Is mum here?” Fred finally broke the silence, now looking at Sirius.

“She probably doesn’t even know what’s happened yet.” said Sirius. “The important thing was to get you away before Umbridge could interfere. I expect Dumbledore’s letting Molly know now.”

“We’ve got to go to St. Mungo’s,” said Ginny urgently,

“We can’t.” The Doctor said, “The Ministry would not use the information of Harry having visions kindly.

“Easy for you to say. It’s not your dad.” Fred growled, “I’m sure he’s just lounging, safe in bed right now.”

“Fred –” Harry tried to warn, but the Doctor turned to Fred,

“My father’s dead.” Fred looked shocked, “And I know it’s hard, but he’ll be okay. We need to keep your father safe, and if that means staying away, that’s what we’re going to do.” The room was silent, when Sirius said,

“He’s right.” There was a nod, and Ginny sunk into a chair. Suddenly, there was a burst of fire in midair that illuminated the dirty room. A scroll of parchment fell with a thud onto the table, accompanied by a single golden phoenix tail feather.

“Fawkes!” siad Sirius at once, snatching up the parchment. “That’s not Dumbledore’s writing – it must be a message from your mother – here –” He thrust the letter into George’s hand, who ripped it open and read aloud, “ _Dad is still alive. I am setting out for St. Mungo’s now. Stay where you are. I will send news as soon as I can. Mum._ ”

“Still alive…” George said slowly, “But that makes it sound…” He did not need to finish his sentence, Mr. Weasley was clearly hanging on somewhere between life and death.

At ten past five in the morning, the kitchen door swung open and Mrs. Weasley entered the kitchen. She was extremely pale, but when they all turned to look at her, Fred, Ron, and Harry half-rising out of their chairs, she gave a wan smile.

“He’s going to be all right,” she said, her voice weak with tiredness. “He’s sleeping. We can all go and see him later. Bill’s sitting with him now, he’s going to take the morning off work.” Fred fell back into his chair with his hands over his face. George and Ginny got up, walked swiftly over to their mother, and hugged her. Ron gave a very shaky laugh.

“Breakfast!” said Sirius loudly and joyfully, jumping to his feet. “Where’s that accursed house-elf? Kreacher! KREACHER!” There was no answer, “Oh, forget it, then.” Sirius muttered,

“I’ll make breakfast.” The Doctor jumped up, gathering ingredients from the kitchen.

There were murmurs of praise as the Doctor served breakfast, then, Sirius pulled him aside. “So, _Doctor_.” Then, Harry, Ron, and Jack entered. Jack sent an alarmed look at the Doctor for Sirius calling him Doctor.

“Why do you keep calling him that?” Harry asked, “He may be clever, but he’s no doctor.”

“That’s his name.” Sirius said, glaring at the Doctor.   
“What do you mean?” Ron asked, “His name is John.”

“No it’s not.” Sirius gave the Doctor a look, then continued, “Mr. John Smith, here, is an alien called a Time Lord. They are dangerous, known for wreaking havoc and leaving nothing but a trail of dust and blood. But if you look closer, all of his people who’ve ever come and been recorded are called the Doctor. And to Miss Lovegood, that’s who he introduced himself as. They are all one person. He’s a shapeshifter, able to change his face to lure people to their deaths. That’s what he’s going to do to you, stay away from him.” The Doctor looked as though he’d just been slapped in the face, and in a way, he had been. Everyone was looking at him, “I –” The Doctor was frozen, he didn’t know what to do. This was how the world viewed him. He’d always known he was never seen as a hero, but this was so much more than he thought.

“Doc!” Jack called, but ropes from Sirius’s wand had wrapped themselves around him. With a flick of his wand, the Doctor got the ropes to release him, but Sirius was suddenly on top of him, snatching his wand out of his hands.

“What do you want with Harry?” He demanded,

“Nothing.” Jack approached, trying to talk Sirius out of it, but he pointed his wand to Jack,

“Who are you? His sidekick?”

“No.” Jack said, raising an eyebrow, “Have you ever even seen him hurt anyone?”

“He’s using mind control on you, snap out of it, kid.” Sirius said, The Doctor laughed,

“I don’t have mind control. I mean, sure, I can read minds, but only if they let me. Otherwise it would just be rude.”

“You are dangerous. Give me one reason why I shouldn’t just kill you right here, right now.”

“Because without him, this world will be destroyed.” Jack stated, staring into Sirius’s eyes,

“What do you mean?” Sirius demanded,

“How do you not know the legends of him? He’s saved the universe hundreds of times and the planet thousands.”

“And maybe you’ve heard the legends of him destroying it!” Sirius snapped, “There’s a reason his dad is dead, and it's probably because he killed them!” The Doctor stared at him, his hands shaking,

“Doc?” Jack turned to him, and the Doctor ran, pushing his way out of the house, dodging spells all the way out.


	16. St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries

Jack chased after the Doctor as he ran. The Doctor was much faster than Jack, but Jack found him in a far away field, curled up in the grass, tears sliding down his young face. “Doc.” Jack said softly, wishing the Doctor would scold him for the use of the name, just to crack a smile and to know his Doctor was okay, but Sirius dealt a low blow that knocked the Doctor off his feet.

“He was right.” The Doctor whispered as Jack sat down next to him,

“No, no, don’t think for a second he was right.” Jack said,

“I killed my family, Jack!” The Doctor shouted, “I killed them, I killed everyone.” Suddenly, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were behind him,

“John.” Ron said, gasping for breath. They were shocked to see the crumpled figure before them,

“He wasn’t, he wasn’t right, was he?” Harry asked timidly, suddenly seemingly a little frightened,

“I had no other choice.” The Doctor whispered, “I had to, there wasn’t any other way.”

“What happened?” Hermione asked, Jack placed a hand on the Doctor’s shoulder as he responded,

“There was a war. A time war. On my planet. We were losing. If we lost, the Daleks, the ones we were fighting against, would have taken out the rest of the universe. I had a choice to make, I could have let us lose, and let the world be destroyed, or I could destroy my planet, my people. My family. So I killed them. My family, my friends, people I never even knew.”

“You’re an alien?” Harry asked,

“What’s an alien?” Ron asked,

“It’s someone not from our planet.” Harry whispered to Ron as the Doctor nodded,

“Yes.”

“Where are you from?” Hermione asked,

“Gallifrey.”

“So, are you a Time Lord, like he said?” Ron asked,

“Yes.”

“Wait, if you’re an alien, is John Smith really your name?” Hermione asked, the Doctor hesitated,

“No.”

“So, what is it?”

“You can call me the Doctor.”

“Is that your real name?”

“It’s what I go by."

“How long have you been on Earth for?” Harry asked,

“I’m off and on quite often, though I’ve been here since the beginning of the school year.”

“Wait, how did you fight in a war? You’re just a kid.”

“I’m approximately nine-hundred and something.” The Doctor shrugged, “I’ve been around for a while.” They stared at him,

“Approximately?” Hermione said, “How are you not sure?”

“I’m so old, I don’t remember if I’m lying about my age or not.” Harry laughed and offered the Doctor a hand, the Doctor looked up with curiosity, Harry grinned,

“Come on, Sirius is letting you stay with us if I have to jinx him myself.”

 

Everyone but the Doctor and Harry spent the rest of the morning sleeping. “Nightmares?” The Doctor finally asked him,

“I-yeah. Yeah, nightmares.” Harry said,

“What happened?” The Doctor asked,

“That night, when I saw the snake attack Mr. Weasley, I wasn’t watching. I _was_ the snake.” The Doctor nodded thoughtfully, pulled out his sonic screwdriver, scanned Harry’s head, then thought for a moment,

“You have a connection with Voldemort.” The Doctor stated, “Through your scar, and that snake is a part of Voldemort. You are connected to the snake, that’s all.”

“But when we were in Dumbledore’s office, I-I wanted to attack him.” The Doctor’s face contorted into one of concern,

“Your connection is too strong. Voldemort is using it to get to you.”

“How do I stop him?” Harry asked in desperation,

“My recommendation would be to learn occlumency.” Harry nodded, then asked,

“Do you get nightmares.” The Doctor gave a slow nod, “Is that why you’re not sleeping?”

“I don’t need as much sleep as humans, but when I do sleep, I do get nightmares.”

“Are they of the war?”

“Yes.” The Doctor decided not to mention the other ones he had, not wanting to scare the boy.

Their trunks arrived from Hogwarts while they were eating lunch. No one mentioned what happened with the Doctor the night before. After lunch, they dressed as Muggles for their trip to St. Mungo’s. A woman named Tonks, and a man named Mad-Eye Moody came to escort them across London. They sat on a train that rattled toward the heart of the city, as Tonks began talking to Harry, Jack turned to the Doctor,

“You alright?” The Doctor shrugged, and didn’t have to answer as they got out at the next stop, a station at the very heart of London, an din the bustle of leaving the train, he allowed Fred and George to get between himself and Jack. They all followed Tonks up the escalator, Moody clucking along at the back of the group, his bowler tilted low and one gnarled hand stuck in between the buttons of his coat, clutching his wand.

“Not far from here.” Grunted Moody as they stepped out into the wintry air on a broad store-lined street packed with Christmas shoppers. “Wasn’t easy to find a good location for a hospital. Nowhere in Diagon Alley was big enough and we couldn’t have it underground like the Ministry – unhealthy. In the end they managed to get hold of a building up here. Theory was sick wizards could come and go and just blend in with the crowd…” They continued to move forward, until Moody said, “Here we go.” They had arrived outside a large, old-fashioned, red brick department store called Purge and Dowse Ltd. The place had a shabby, miserable air; the window displays consisted of a few chipped dummies with their wings askew, standing at random and modeling fashions at least ten years out of date. Large signs on all the dusty doors read 'CLOSED FOR REFURBISHMENT’. The Doctor heard a large woman laden with plastic shopping bags say to her friend as they passed,

“It’s _never_ open, that place…”

“Right,” said Tonks, beckoning them forward to a window displaying nothing but a particular ugly female dummy whose false eyelashes were hanging off and who was modeling a green nylon pinafore dress. “Everybody ready?” They nodded, clustering around her. “Watcher… We’re here to see Arthur Weasley.” Suddenly, the dummy gave a tiny nod, beckoned its jointed finger, and Tonks had seized Ginny and Mrs. Weasley by the elbows, stepped right through the glass and vanished. Fred, George, and Ron stepped after them. The Doctor grabbed Jack and Harry and pulled them through. It felt like going through a sheet of cold water, but emerged quite warm and dry on the other side. There was no sign of the ugly dummy or the space where she had stood. They had arrived in what seemed to be a crowded reception area where rows of witches and wizards sat upon rickety wooden chairs, some looking perfectly normal and person out-of-date copies of _Witch Weekly_ , others sporting gruesome disfigurements such as elephant trunks or extra hands sticking out of their chest. The room was scarcely less quiet than the street outside, for many of the patients were making very peculiar noises. A sweaty-faced witch in the center of the front row, who was fanning herself vigorously with a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ , kept letting off a high-pitched whistle as steam came pouring out of her mouth, and a grubby-looking warlock in the corner clanged like a bell every time he moved, and with each clang his head vibrated horribly, so that he had to seize himself by the ears and hold it steady.

Witches and wizards in lime-green robes were walking up and down the rows, asking questions and making notes on clipboards. On each of their chests, a crossed wand and bone emblem embroidered them. “Are they doctors?” Harry asked Ron, Jack, and the Doctor,

“Doctors?” Said Ron, looking startled. “Those Muggle nutters that cut people up? Nah, they’re Healers.” Just as the Doctor was about to reply, Mrs. Weasley called out,

“Over here!” They followed her to the queue in front of a plump blonde witch seated at a desk marked ‘INQUIRIES’. The wall behind her was covered in notices and posters saying things like ‘A CLEAN CAULDRON KEEPS POTIONS FROM BECOMING POISONS’ and ‘ANTIDOTES ARE ANTI-DON’TS UNLESS APPROVED BY A QUALIFIED HEALER’. There was also a large portrait of a witch with long silver ringlets that was labeled

 

**DILYS DERWENT**

  1. MUNGO’S HEALER 1722-1741



HEADMISTRESS OF HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF

WITCHCRAFT AND WIZADRY, 1741-1768

 

Dilys was eyeing the Weasley party as though counting them; the Doctor watched as Harry caught her eye, and she gave a tiny wink, walked sideways out of her portrait, and vanished.

At the front of the queue, a young wizard was performing an odd on-the-spot jig and trying between yelps of pain, to explain his predicament to the witch behind the desk. “It’s these – ouch – shoes my brother gave me – ow – they’re eating my – OUCH – feet – look at them, there must be some kind of – AARGH – jinx on them and I can’t – AAAAARGH – get them off –“ He hopped from one foot to the other as though dancing on hot coals.

“The shoes don’t prevent you reading, do they?” Said the blonde witch irritably, pointing at a large sign to the left of her desk. “You want Spell Damage, fourth floor. Just like it says on the floor guide. Next!” The wizard hobbled and pranced sideways out of the way, the Weasley party moved forward a dew steps and the Doctor read the floor guide:

 

_ARTIFACT ACCIDENTS……………………………………Ground Floor_

_(Cauldron explosion, wand backfiring, broom crashes, etc.)_

 

_CREATURE-INDUCED INJURIES…………………………First Floor_

_(Bites, stings, burns, embedded spines, etc.)_

 

_MAGICAL BUGS……………………………………………Second Floor_

_(Contagious maladies, e.g., dragon pox, vanishing sickness, scrofungulus)_

 

_POTION AND PLANT POISONING………………………Third Floor_

_(Rashes, regurgitation, uncontrollable giggling, etc.)_

 

_SPELL DAMAGE……………………………………………Fourth Floor_

_(Unliftable jinxes, hexes, and incorrectly applied charms, etc.)_

 

_VISITORS’ TEAROOM AND HOSPITAL SHOP…………Fifth Floor_

 

_If you are unsure where to go, incapable of normal speech, or unable to remember why you are here, our Welcome Witch will be pleased to help._

 

The Doctor elbowed Jack and pointed to the plan, “Look, they’ve got a little shop.” A very old, stooped wizard with a hearing trumpet had shuffled to the front of the queue now.

“I’m here to see Broderick Bode!” He wheezed.

“Ward forty-nine, but I’m afraid you’re wasting your time,” said the witch dismissively. “He’s completely addled, you know, still thinks he’s a teapot…Next!” A harassed-looking wizard was holding his small daughter tightly by the ankle while she flapped around his head using the immensely large, feathery wings that had sprouted right out the back of her romper suit. “Fourth floor.” Said the witch in a bored voice, without asking, and the man disappeared through the double doors beside the desk, holding his daughter like an oddly shaped balloon. “Next!” Mrs. Weasley moved forward to the desk.

“Hello,” she said, “My husband, Arthur Weasley, was supposed to be moved to a different ward this morning, could you tell us –“

“Arthur Weasley?” Said the Witch, running her finger down a long list in front of her. “Yes, first floor, second door on the right. Dan Llewellyn ward.”

“Thank you.” Said Mrs. Weasley. “Come on, you lot.”

They followed through the double doors and along the narrow corridor beyond, which was lined with more portraits of famous Healers and lit by crystal bubbles full of candles that floated up on the ceiling. More witches and wizards in lime-green robes walked in and out of the doors they passed; a foul-smelling yellow gas wafted into the passageway as they passed one door, and every now and then they heard distant wailing. They climbed a flight of stairs and entered the “Creature-Induced Injuries” corridor, where the second door on the right bore the words “DANGEROUS” DAI LLEWELLYN WARD: SERIOUS BITES. Underneath this was a card in a brass holder on which had been handwritten _Healer-in-Charge: Hipppcrates Smethuyck, Trainee Healer: Augustus Pye._

“We’ll wait outside, Molly.” Tonks said. “Arthur won’t want too many visitors at once… it ought to be just the family first” Moody growled his approval of this idea and set himself with his back against the corridor wall, his magical eye spinning in all directions. Harry, Hermione, Jack, and the Doctor drew back too, but Mrs. Weasley reached out her hand to grab the Doctor and Jack, but looking at Harry and Hermione, “Don’t be silly boys, Arthur will want to thank you…”

The ward was small and rather dingy as the only window was narrow and set high in the wall facing the door. Most of the light came from more shining crystal bubbles cluster in the middle of the ceiling. The walls were of paneled oak and there was a portrait of a rather vicious-looking wizard on the wall, captioned ‘URQUHART RACKHARROW, 1612-1697, INVENTOR OF THE ENTRAIL-EXPELLING CURSE’. There were only three patients. Mr. Weasley was occupying the bed at the far end of the ward beside the tiny window. He was propped up on several pillows and reading the _Daily Prophet_ by the solitary ray of sunlight falling onto his bed. He looked around as they walked toward him and, seeing whom it was, beamed.

“Hello!” He called, throwing the _Prophet_ aside. “Bill just left, Molly, had to get back to work, but he says he’ll drop in on you later…”

“How are you, Arthur?” Asked Mrs. Weasley, bending down to kiss his cheek and looking anxiously into his face. “You’re still looking a bit peaky…”

“I feel absolutely fine,” said Mr. Weasley brightly, holding out his good arm to give Ginny a hug. “If they could only take the bandages off, I’d be fit to go home.”

“Why can’t they take them off, Dad?” Asked Fred.

“Well, I start bleeding like mad every time they try,” said Mr. Weasley cheerfully, reaching across for his wand, which lay on his bedside cabinet, and waving it so that eight extra chairs appeared at his bedside to seat them all. “It seems there was some rather unusual kind of poison in that snake’s fangs that keeps wounds open… They’re not sure they’ll find an antidote, though, they say they’ve had much worse cases than mine, and in the meantime I just have to keep taking a Blood-Replenishing Potion every hour. But that fellow over there,” he said, dropping his voice and nodding toward the bed opposite in which a man lay looking green and sickly and staring at the ceiling. “Bitten by a _werewolf_ , poor chap. No cure at all.”

“A werewolf?” Whispered Mrs. Weasley looking alarmed. “Is he safe in a public ward? Shouldn’t he be in a private room?”

“It’s two weeks till full moon.” Mr. Weasley reminded her quietly. “They’ve been talking to him this morning, the Healers, you know, trying to persuade him he’ll be able to lead an almost normal life. I said to him – didn’t mention names of course – but I said I knew a werewolf personally, very nice man, who finds the condition quite easy to manage…”

“What did he say?” Asked George.

“Said he’d give me another bite if I didn’t shut up.” Said Mr. Weasley sadly. “And that woman over _there_ ,” He indicated the only other occupied bed, which was right beside the door, “won’t tell the Healers what bit her, which makes us all think it must have been something she was handling illegally. Whatever it was took a real chunk out of her leg, _very_ nasty smell when they take off the dressings.” Suddenly, as if only now noticing they were there, Mr. Weasley looked at the Doctor and Jack, “Who are you?” Before the Doctor or Jack could respond, Mrs. Weasley said,

“That’s John Smith and Jack Harkness. They helped.” Mr. Weasley nodded,

“Pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise.” The Doctor smiled,

“What happened?” Fred asked,

“Well, you already know, don’t you?” Said Mr. Weasley, with a significant smile at Harry. “It’s very simple – I’d had a very long day, dozed off, got sneaked up on, and bitten.”

“Is it in the _Prophet_ , you being attacked?” Asked Fred, indicating to the newspaper Mr. Weasley had cast aside.

“No, of course not,” said Mr. Weasley, with a slightly bitter smile, “the Ministry wouldn’t want everyone to know a dirty great serpent got –“

“Arthur!” Said Mrs. Weasley warningly.

“–got – er –me.” Mr. Weasley said hastily, though the Doctor quite sure that was not what he had meant to say.

“What were you doing?” The Doctor asked,

“That’s my business.” Mr. Weasley said, but George said quietly,

“You were guarding it, weren’t you? The weapon? The thing You-Know-Who’s after?”

“George, be quiet!” Snapped Mrs. Weasley.

“Didn’t you say You-Know-Who’s got a snake, Harry?” Asked Fred, looking at his father for a reaction. “A massive one? You saw it the night he returned, didn’t you?”

“We shouldn’t discuss this here.” The Doctor said, letting silence fall upon the family. He already knew it was Voldemort’s snake that attacked Mr. Weasley, but if Mr. Weasley was hiding something, it was probably for good reason. Not that he wouldn’t pry later, but for now he thought it best to not speak of this.

“Yes, John’s right, now, Tonks and Mad-Eye are outside and will want to talk to you. And you lot can wait outside,” she added to her children, Harry, Jack, and the Doctor. “You can come say goodbye afterward. Go on…” They trooped back into the corridor, Moody and Tonks went in and closed the door behind them.

“Do you have any special alien hearing abilities?” Ron asked the Doctor,

“Yes, I have better hearing.” The Doctor said,

“Well, then,” Fred said, “Listen in.” The Doctor approached the door, sitting down and focusing his hearing on inside the room:

“…they searched the whole area but they couldn’t find the snake anywhere, it just seems to have vanished after it attacked you, Arthur. …But You-Know-Who can’t have expected a snake to get in, can he?”

“I reckon he sent it as a lookout.” Growled Moody, “‘cause he’s not had any luck so far, has he? No, I reckon he’s trying to get a clearer picture of what he’s facing and if Arthur hadn’t been there the beast would’ve had much more time to look around. So Potter says he saw it all happen?”

“Yes.” Said Mrs. Weasley. She sounded rather uneasy. “You know, Dumbledore seems almost to have been waiting for Harry to see something like this…”

“Yeah, well,” said Moody, “there’s something funny about the Potter kid, we all know that.”

“Dumbledore seemed worried about Harry when I spoke to him this morning,” whispered Mrs. Weasley.

“‘Course he’s worried,” growled Moody. “The boy’s seeing things from inside You-Know-Who’s snake… Obviously, Potter doesn’t realize what that means, but if You-Know-Who’s posessing him–“ The Doctor stood back up and turned to the Weasley children, Harry, Hermione, and Jack. He quickly relayed the information. There was a nod of affirmation, and a look of determination.


	17. Christmas on the Closed Ward

Christmas morning, the Doctor smiled as he watched Harry, Ron, and Hermione ripping open their presents. He always enjoyed Christmas. Suddenly, with a loud _crack_ , Fred and George Apparated at the foot of Harry’s bed.

“Merry Christmas,” said George. “Don’t go downstairs for a bit.”

“Why not?” Ron asked,

“Mum’s crying again,” said Fred heavily. “Percy sent back his Christmas jumper.”

“Without a note,” added George. “Hasn’t asked how Dad is or visited him or anything…”

“We tried to comfort her,” said Fred, moving around the bed to look at Harry’s gifts, “Told her Percy’s nothing more than a humongous pile of rat droppings –”

“– didn’t work.” said George, helping himself to a Chocolate Frog, “So Lupin took over. Best let him cheer her up before we go down for breakfast, I reckon.” The Doctor stood up, and walked out the door.

“John, where are you going?” Fred asked,

“We just told you not to go down there,” George agreed, but the Doctor didn’t listen. Walking down the stairs, the Doctor entered the kitchen and sat down next to a weeping Mrs. Weasley.

“Oh, John!” She noticed him as he sat down, “I’m sorry, do you need something, hun?”

“He’ll come back.” The Doctor said, Mrs. Weasley looked shocked, “You need to give him time. Let him figure himself out on his own. He needs time to realize what he really wants, and if one thousand years of time and space have taught me anything, he’ll come home. Just wait.” The Doctor stood up and left, Mrs. Weasley sputtering questions,

“One thousand years of time and space?”

Once they had had their Christmas lunch, the Weasleys, Harry, Hermione, Jack, and the Doctor were planning to pay Mr. Weasley another visit, escorted by Moody and Lupin. Mundungus turned up in time for Christmas pudding and trifle, having managed to “borrow” a car for the occasion, as the Underground did not run on Christmas Day. The car had an Enlarging Spell placed on it, in other words, it was bigger on the inside.

The journey to St. Mungo’s was quite quick, as there was very little traffic on the roads. A small trickle of witches and wizards were creeping furtively up the otherwise deserted street to visit the hospital. Everyone got out of the car, and Mundungus drove off around the corner to wait for them; they strode casually toward the window where the dummy in green nylon stood, then, one by one, stepped through the glass.

The reception area looked pleasantly festive: The crystal orbs that illuminated St. Mungo’s had been turned red and gold so that they became gigantic, glowing Christmas baubles; holly hung around every doorway, and shining white Christmas trees covered in magical snow and icicles glittered in every corner, each topped with a gleaming gold star. It was less crowded than the last time they had been there. They found Mr. Weasley propped up in bed with the remains of his turkey dinner on a tray in his lap and a rather sheepish expression on his face. “Everything all right, Arthur?” asked Mrs. Weasley, after they had all greeted Mr. Weasley,

“Fine, fine,” said Mr. Weasley, a little too heartily. “You – er – haven’t seen Healer Smethwyck, have you?”

“No,” said Mrs. Weasley suspiciously, “why?”

“Nothing, nothing.” said Mr. Weasley airily, starting to unwrap his pile of gifts. “Well, everyone had a good day? What did you all get for Christmas? Oh, _Harry_ – this is absolutely _wonderful_ –” For he had just opened Harry’s gift of fuse-wire and screwdrivers. Mrs. Weasley did not seem entirely satisfied with Mr. Weasley’s answer. As her husband leaned over to shake Harry’s hand, she peered at the bandaging under his nightshirt.

“Arthur,” She said, with a snap in her voice like a mousetrap, “you’ve had your bandages changed. Why have you had your bandages changed a day early, Arthur? They told me they wouldn’t need doing until tomorrow.”

“What?” said Mr. Weasley, looking rather frightened and pulling the bed covers higher up his chest. “No, no – it’s nothing – it’s – I –” He seemed to deflate under Mrs. Weasley’s piercing gaze. “Well – now don’t get upset, Molly, but Augustus Pye had an idea… He’s a Trainee Healer, you know, lovely young chap and very interested in… um… complementary medicine… I mean, some of those old Muggle remedies… well, they’re called _stitches_ , Molly, and they work very well on – on Muggle wounds –” Mrs. Weasley let out an ominous noise somewhere between a shriek and a snarl. Lupin strolled away from the bed and over to the werewolf, who had no visitors and was looking rather wistfully at the crowd around Mr. Weasley; Bill muttered something about getting himself a cup of tea and Fred and George leapt up to accompany him, grinning.

“Do you mean to tell me,” said Mrs. Weasley, her voice growing louder with every word and apparently unaware that her fellow visitors were scurrying for cover, “that you have been messing about with Muggle remedies?” It was then that the Doctor realized how much Mrs. Weasley reminded him of Jackie Tyler. The name made his heart ache,

“Not messing about, Molly, dear,” said Mr. Weasley imploringly. “It was just – just something Pye and I thought we’d try – only, most unfortunatly – well, with these particular kinds of wounds – it doesn’t seem to work as well as we’d hoped –”

“ _Meaning?_ ”

“Well… well, I don’t know whether you know what – what stitches are?”

“It sounds as though you’ve been trying to sew your skin back together,” said Mrs. Weasley with a snort of mirthless laughter, “but even you, Arthur wouldn’t be _that_ stupid –”

“I fancy a cup of tea too,” said the Doctor, grabbing Jack’s arm, and he, Jack, Hermione, Harry, Ron, and Ginny sprinted out of the room. As the door swung closed behind them, they heard Mrs. Weasley shriek, “WHAT DO YOU MEAN, THAT’S THE GENERAL IDEA?”

“Does anyone remember where the tearoom is?” Hermione asked as they walked,

“Fifth floor.” The Doctor said, remembering the sign over the Welcome Witch’s desk. They walked along the corridor through a set of double doors and found a rickety staircase lined with more portraits of brutal-looking Healers. As they climbed it, the various Healers called out to them. After walking up four floors, Ron paused,

“What floor is this?”

“I think it’s the fifth,” said Hermione unsurly,

“No, this is the fourth.” The Doctor said, “One more –” But as they stepped onto the landing, they came to an abrupt halt, staring at the small window set into the double doors that marked the start of the corridor signposted ‘SPELL DAMAGE.’ A man was peering out at them all with his nose pressed against the glass. He had wavy blond hair, bright blue eyes, and a broad vacant smile that revealed dazzling white teeth.

“Blimey!” said Ron, staring at the man, clearly recognizing him,

“Oh my goodness,” said Hermione suddenly, sounding breathless. “Professor Lockhart!” The Doctor sent Ginny a questioning look,

“He was our Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher in my first year and their second.” The Doctor nodded. The man was wearing a long lilac dressing gown.

“Well, hello there!” He said. “I expect you’d like my autograph, would you?” The Doctor heard Harry whisper to Ginny,

“Hasn’t changed much, has he?” Ginny grinned.

“Er – how are you, Professor?” Said Ron, sounding slightly guilty.

“I’m very well indeed, thank you!” Said Professor Lockhart exuberantly, pulling a rather batter peacock-feather quill from his pocket. “Now, how many autographs would you like? I can do joined-up writing now, you know!”

“Er – we don’t want any at the moment, thanks,” said Ron, raising his eyebrows at Harry who asked,

“Professor, should you be wandering around the corridors? Shouldn’t you be in a ward?” The smile faded slowly from Lockhart’s face. For a few moments, he gazed intently at Harry, then he said, “Haven’t we met?”

“Er… yeah, we have,” said Harry. “You used to teach us at Hogwarts, remember?”

“Teach?” Repeated Professor Lockhart, looking faintly unsettled. “Me? Did I?” And then the smile appeared upon his face so suddenly it was rather alarming. “Taught you everything you know, I expect, did I? Well, how about those autographs, then? Shall we say a round dozen, you can give them to all your little friends then and nobody will be left out!” But just then a head poked out of a door at the far end of the corridor and a voice said, “Gilderoy, you naughty boy, where have you wandered off to?” A motherly looking Healer wearing a tinsel wreath in her hair came bustling up the corridor, smiling warmly at Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Jack, and the Doctor. “Oh Gilderoy, you’ve got visitors! How _lovely_ , and on Christmas Day too! Do you know, he _never_ gets visitors, poor lamb, and I can’t think why, he’s such a sweetie, aren’t you?”

“We’re doing autographs!” Gilderoy told the Healer with another glittering smile. “They want loads of them, won’t take no for an answer! I just hope we’ve got enough photographs!”

“Listen to him,” said the Healer, taking Gilderoy’s arm and beaming fondly at him. “He was rather well known a few years ago; we very much hope that this liking for giving autographs is a sign that his memory might be coming back a little bit. Will you step this way? He’s in a closed ward, you know, he must have slipped out while I was bringing in the Christmas presents, the door’s usually kept locked… not that he’s dangerous! But,” she lowered her voice to a whisper, “bit of a danger to himself, bless him… Doesn’t know who he is, you see, wanders off and can’t remember how to get back… It _is_ nice of you to have come to see him –“

“Er –“ said Ron uneasily, but the Doctor elbowed him in the ribs,

“We were happy to come.” He said, Gilderoy beamed. They followed Gilderoy and his Healer along the corridor,

“Let’s not stay long,” Ron said quietly.

The Healer pointed her wand at the door of the Janus Thickey ward and muttered “ _Alohomora._ ” The door swung open and she lead the way inside, keeping a firm grasp on Gilderoy’s arm until she had settled him into an armchair beside his bed.

“This is our long-term resident ward.” She informed Harry, Ron, Ginny, Hermione, Jack, and the Doctor in a low voice. “For permanent spell damage, you know. Of course, with intensive remedial potions and charms and a bit of luck, we can produce some improvement… Gilderoy does seem to be getting back some sense of himself, and we’ve seen a real improvement in Mr. Bode, he seems to be regaining the power of speech very well, though he isn’t speaking any language we recognize yet… Well, I must finish giving out the Christmas presents, I’ll leave you all to chat…”

The Doctor looked around; this ward bore unmistakable signs of being a permanent home to its residents. They had many more personal effects around their bed than Mr. Weasley’s ward; the wall around Gilderoy’s headboard, for instance, was papered with pictures of himself, all beaming toothily and waving at the new arrivals. He had autographed many of them to himself in disjointed, childish writing. The moment he had been deposited in his chair by the Healer, Gilderoy pulled a fresh stack of photographs toward him, seized a quill, and started signing them all feverishly.

“You can put them in envelopes,” he said to Ginny, throwing the signed pictures into her lap one by one as he finished them. “I am not forgotten, you know, no, I still receive a very great deal of fan mail… Gladys Gudeon writes _weekly_ … I just wish I knew _why_ …” He paused, looking faintly puzzled, then beamed again and returned to his signing with renewed vigor. “I suspect it is simply my good looks…”

A sallow-skinned, mournful-looking wizard lay in the bed opposite, staring at the ceiling; he was mumbling to himself and seemed quite unaware of anything around him. Two bed along was a woman whose entire head was covered in fur; Harry remembered something similar happening to Hermione during their second year, although fortunately the damage, in her case, had not been permanent. At the far end of the ward flowery curtains had been drawn around two beds to give the occupants and their visitors some privacy.

“Here you are, Agnes,” said the Healer brightly to the furry-faced woman, handing her a small pile of Christmas presents. “See, not forgotten, are you? And you son’s sent an owl to say he’s visiting tonight, so that’s nice, isn’t it?” Agnes gave several loud barks. “And look, Broderick, you’ve been sent a potted plant and a lovely calendar with a different fancy hippogriff for each month, they’ll brighten things up, won’t they?” Said the Healer, bustling along to the mumbling man setting a rather ugly plant with long, swaying tentacles on the bedside cabinet and fixing the calendar to the wall with her wand. “And – oh, Mrs. Longbottom, are you leaving already?” The Doctor spun around, recognizing the last name. The curtains had been drawn back from the two beds at the end of the ward and two visitors were walking back down the aisle between the beds: a formidable-looking old witch wearing a long green dress, a moth-eaten fox fur, a stuffed vulture and, trailing behind her looking thoroughly depressed – _Neville_.

The Doctor exchanged a look with Jack, they hadn’t known what had happened to Neville’s parents, and now they knew. Everyone else seemed to look up at the name 'Longbottom' as well, and before anyone could stop him, Ron had called out,

“ _Neville_!” Neville jumped and cowered as though a bullet had narrowly missed him. “It’s us, Neville!” Said Ron brightly, getting to his feet. “Have you seen? Lockhart’s here! Who’ve you been visiting?”

“Friends of yours, Neville, dear?” Said Neville’s grandmother graciously, bearing down upon them all. Neville looked as though he would rather be anywhere in the world but here. A dull purple flush was creeping up his face and he was not making eye contact with any of them.

“Ah, yes,” said his grandmother, peering at Harry And sticking out a shriveled, claylike hand for him to shake. “Yes, yes, I know who you are, of course. Neville speaks most highly of you.”

“Er – thanks,” said Harry, shaking hands. Neville did not look at him, but stared at his own feet, the colour deepening in his face all the while.

“And you two are clearly Weasleys,” Mrs. Longbottom continued, proffering her hand regally to Ron and Ginny in turn. “Yes, I know your parents – not well, of course – but fine people, fine people… and you must be Hermione Granger?” Hermione looked rather startled that Mrs. Longbottom knew her name, but shook hands all the same. “Yes, Neville’s told me all about you. Helped him out of a few sticky spots, haven’t you? He’s a good boy,” she said, casting a sternly appraising look down her rather bony nose at Neville, “But he hasn’t his father’s talent, I’m afraid to say…” she looked at the Doctor and Jack, “and who are you?”

“John Smith.” The Doctor said, shaking the woman’s extended hand,

“Jack Harkness.” Jack said,

“Pleasure.” She smiled,

“What?” Ron said, looking amazed, still not having moved on from the previous sentence, “Is that your _dad_ down the end, Neville?” The Doctor wanted to stamp on Ron’s foot, but Mrs. Longbottom said sharply,

“What’s this? Haven’t you told your friends about your parents, Neville?” Neville took a deep breath, looked up at the ceiling, and shook his head. “Well, it’s nothing to be ashamed of!” She continued angrily, “You should be _proud_ , Neville, _proud_! They didn’t give their health and their sanity so their only son would be ashamed of them, you know!”

“I’m not ashamed,” said Neville very faintly, still looking anywhere but at the Doctor and the others. Ron was now standing on tiptoe to look over at the inhabitants of the two beds.

“Well, you’ve got a funny way of showing it!” Said Mrs. Longbottom. “My son and his wife,” she said, turning haughty to Harry, Ron, Ginny, Hermione, Jack, and the Doctor, “were tortured into insanity by You-Know-Who’s followers.” Hermione and Ginny both clapped their hands over their mouths. Ron stopped training his neck to catch a glimpse of Neville’s parents and looked mortified, as the Doctor cast his eyes down in sorrow. “They were Aurors, you know, and very well respected within the Wizarding community,” Mrs. Longbottom went on. “Highly gifted, the pair of them. I – yes, Alice dear, what is it?” Neville’s mother had come edging down the ward in her nightdress. She did not seem to want to speak, or perhaps she was not able to, but she made timid motions towards Neville, holding something in her outstretched hand. “Again?” Said Mrs. Longbottom, sounding slightly weary. “Very well, Alice, dear, very well – Neville, take it, whatever it is…” But Neville had already stretched out his hand, into which his mother dropped an empty Drooble's Blowing Gum wrapper. “Very nice, dear,” said Neville’s grandmother in a falsely cheery voice, patting his mother on the shoulder. But Neville said quietly,

“Thanks Mum.” His mother tottered away, back up the ward, humming to herself. Neville looked around at the others, his expression defiant, as though daring them to laugh, but the Doctor knew none of them would find this funny.

“Well, we’d better get back,” sighed Mrs. Longbottom, drawing on long green gloves. “Very nice to have met you all. Neville, put that wrapped in the bin, she must have given you enough of them to paper your bedroom by now…” But as they left, the Doctor saw Neville slip the wrapper into his pocket. The door closed behind them.

“I never knew.” Said Hermione, who looked tearful.

“Nor did I,” said Ron horsley.

“Nor me,” whispered Ginny,

“Or me.” Jack said quietly, the Doctor wordlessly agreed, everyone looked at Harry.

“I did,” he said glumly. “Dumbledore told me but I promised I wouldn’t mention it… that’s what Bellatrix Lestrange got sent to Azkaban for, using the Cruciatus Curse on Neville’s parents until they lost their minds.”

“Bellatrix Lestrange did that?” Whispered Hermione, horrified.

“That woman Kreacher’s got a photo of in his den?” There was a long silence, broken by Gilderoy’s angry voice.

“Look, I didn’t learn joined-up writing for nothing, you know!"


	18. Occlumency

The Doctor met Kreacher for the first time when he found him sneaking around and looking in the Doctor’s trunk. The Doctor smiled kindly at him, “Hello.” Kreacher jumped up, and began muttering, “mudbloods, filth, blood-traitors, in my mistress’s house no less.” The Doctor furrowed an eyebrow, he already didn’t like the elf,

“What are you doing?” The Doctor asked, but Kreacher had already disappeared with a pop.

Everyone’s mood seemed to dip, as the holidays ended and the date of their departure back to Hogwarts drew nearer. Sirius kept a close eye on the Doctor, who kept as far away from his as possible. Then, on the very last day of the holidays, Harry was called to the kitchen, as Professor Snape had come and was requesting his presence. A few minutes after Harry went in, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley burst through the door, “Cured!” He exclaimed, before repeating himself as he burst through the door to the kitchen, “Cured! Completely cured!” Everyone froze at the scene. Sirius was pointing his wand at Professor Snape, who’s wand was also out in an offensive position, and Harry was trying to stop them from killing each other. “Merlin’s beard,” said Mr. Weasley, the smile sliding off his face, “what’s going on here?” Both Professor Snape and Sirius lowered their wands. They wore an expression of utmost contempt, yet the unexpected entrance of so many witnesses seemed to have brought them to their senses. Professor Snape pocketed his wand and swept back across the kitchen, passing everyone without comment. At the door, he looked back.

“Six o’clock Monday evening, Potter.” He was gone. Sirius glared after him, his wand at his side.

“But what’s been going on?” Asked Mr. Weasley again.

“Nothing Arthur,” said Sirius, who was breathing heavily as though he had just run a long distance. “Just a friendly little chat between two old school friends…” With what looked like an enormous effort, he smiled. “So… you’re cured? That’s great news, really great…”

“Yes, isn’t it?” Said Mrs. Weasley, leading her husband forward into a chair. “Healer Smethwyck worked his magic in the end, found an antidote to whatever that snake’s got in its fangs, and Arthur’s learned his lesson about dabbling in Muggle medicine, _haven’t you dear_?” She added rather menacingly.

“Yes, Molly dear,” said Mr. Weasley meekly.

That night’s meal should have been a cheerful one with Mr. Weasley back amongst them; the Doctor could tell Sirius was trying to make it so, yet when he was not trying to force himself to laugh loudly at Fred and George’s jokes or offering everyone more food, his face fell back into a moody, brooding expression. “So, what happened with you and Professor Snape?” The Doctor asked Harry,

“He wants me to learn Occlumency.” Harry sighed,

“Oh, I can help you practice.” The Doctor suggested, “I’m a touch telepath, so I’m quite good at that.”

“I don’t know.” Harry sighed,

“I think you should have the basics down before you let him try to penetrate your mind.” Harry nodded,

“Yeah…”

“Dumbledore wants to stop you having those dreams about Voldemort.” Hermione said, clearly having been listening in, “Well, you won’t be sorry not to have them anymore, will you?”

“Extra lessons with Snape?” Said Ron, having been listening in as well, “I’d rather have the nightmares!”

They were to return to Hogwarts on the Knight Bus, an enchanted bus that transported Wizards from place to place, the following day, escorted once again by Tonks and Lupin, both of whom were eating breakfast in the kitchen when Harry, Ron, Hermione, Jack, and the Doctor arrived there the next morning. The adults seemed to have been midway through a whispered conversation when the door opened; all of them looked around hastily and fell silent.

After a hurried breakfast, they pulled on jackets and scarves against the chilly gray January morning. Sirius summoned Harry over to him, whispered some words, then sent Harry back, beaconing the Doctor over. The Doctor walked over, “I know Harry may trust you, but I’ll have you know that I still don’t. If you so much as _touch_ my godson, you will have me to deal with. Got it?” The Doctor nodded, and walked back over to the others, Sirius following. Sirius clapped Harry on the shoulder, and smiled grimly. Before anyone could say anything else, they were heading upstairs, stopping before the heavily chained and bolted front door surrounded by Weasleys.

“Good-bye, boys, pleasure to meet you.” Mrs. Weasley said to the Doctor and Jack after hugging Harry tightly and saying her goodbyes to him,

“Thank you for all the help.” Mr. Weasley said, shaking their hands. They passed Sirius, he glared heavily down at them, and found themselves being shunted out into the icy winter air, with Tonks who was disguised as a tall tweedy woman with iron-gray hair, chivvying them down the steps.

The door slammed shut behind them, and they followed Lupin down the front steps. “Come on, the quicker we get on the bus the better,” said Tonks as Lupin flung out his right arm.

BANG.

A violently purple, triple-decker bus had appeared out of thin air in front of them, narrowly avoiding the nearest lamppost, which jumped backward out of its way.

A thin, pimply, jug-eared youth in a purple uniform leapt down onto the pavement and said, “Welcome to the –“

“Yes, yes, we know, thank you,” said Tonks swiftly. “On, on, get on –“ She shoved Harry forward toward the steps, past the conductor, who goggled at him as he passed, the Doctor, Jack, Ron, and Hermione in toe.

“‘Ere – it’s ‘Arry – !”

“If you shout his name I will curse you into oblivion,” muttered Tonks menacingly,

“I’ve always wanted to go on this thing,” said Ron happily, looking around.

The Knight Bus was crammed with an assortment of mismatched chairs grouped haphazardly around the windows. Some of these appeared to have fallen over when the bus stopped abruptly at Grimmauld Place; and somebody’s shopping bag had slid the length of the bus; an unpleasant mixture of frog spawn, cockroaches, and custard creams was scattered all over the floor.  “Looks like we’ll have to split up,” said Tonks briskly, looking for empty chairs. “Fred, George, Ginny, and Jack, if you just take those seats at the back… Remus can stay with you…” She, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and the Doctor proceeded up to the very top deck, where there were two chairs at the very back, and three at the front. Stan Shunpike, the conductor, followed the Doctor and Harry eagerly as Hermione, Ron, and Tonks headed to the front. Heads turned as they passed and when they sat down, all the faces flicked back to the front again.

The Doctor and Harry handed Stan eleven Sickles each, the bus set off again, swaying ominously. It rumbled around Grimmauld Square, weaving on and off the pavement, then, with another tremendous BANG, they were all flung backward. The Doctor looked out the window to see they were now speeding down what appeared to be a motorway. “Just outside Birmingham,” said Stan happily, "You keepin’ well, then, ‘Arry? I seen your name in the paper loads over the summer, but it weren’t never nuffink very nice… I said to Ern, I said, ‘’e didn’t seem like a nutter when we met ‘im, just goes to show, dunnit?” He handed over their tickets and continued to gaze, enthralled, at Harry. The Knight Bus swayed alarmingly, overtaking a line of cars on the inside. Looking toward the front of the bus, the Doctor saw Hermione cover her eyes with her hands.

BANG.

Chairs slid backward again as the Knight Bus jumped from the Birmingham motorway to a quiet country lane full of hairpin bends. Hedgerows on either side of the road were leaping out of their way as they mounted the verges. From here they moved to a main street in the middle of a busy town, then to a viaduct surrounded by tall hills, then to a windswept road between high-rise flats, each time with a loud BANG.

“Listen, it’s ‘Ogwarts stop after this,” said Stan brightly, swaying toward them. “That bossy woman up front ‘oo got on with you, she’s given us a little tip to move you up the queue. We’re just gonna let Madam Marsh off first, though –“ There was more retching from downstairs, followed by a horrible spattering sound. “She’s not feeling ‘er best.”

A few minutes later the Knight Bus screeched to a halt outside a small pub, which squeezed itself out of the way to avoid a collision. They could hear Stan ushering the unfortunate Madam Marsh out of the bus and the relieved murmurings of her fellow passengers on the second deck. The bus moved on again, gathering speed until –

BANG.

They were rolling through a snowy Hogsmeade. The Doctor caught a glimpse of the Hog’s Head down its side street, the severed boar’s head sign creaking in the wintry wind. Flecks of snow hit the large window at the front of the bus. At last they rolled to a halt outside the gates to Hogwarts.

Lupin and Tonks helped them off the bus with their luggage and then got off to say good-bye. “You’ll be safe once you’re in the grounds,” said Tonks, casting a careful eye around the deserted road. “Have a good term, okay?”

“Look after yourselves,” said Lupin, shaking hands all round and reaching Harry last. The Doctor heard him whisper, “And listen… Harry, I know you don’t like Snape, but he is superb Occlumens and we all – Sirius included – want you to learn to protect yourself, so work hard, all right?”

“Yeah, all right,” said Harry heavily, looking up into Lupin’s prematurely lined face. “See you, then…”

The eight of them climbed up the slippery drive toward the castle, dragging their trunks. The Doctor placed himself next to Harry, “Do you want to work on Occlumency tonight?” Harry sighed and shrugged,

“Why not?”

That night the Doctor and Harry sat down in the common room together. Hermione, Ron, and Jack were all there watching as well, curious as to what it would look like. “Okay,” The Doctor said calmly, “close your eyes.” Harry did so, “I’m going to go into your mind now, just so you know what it’s like. If there’s anything you don’t want me to see, imagine a door, and I won’t go in.” Harry nodded, and the Doctor placed his fingers on Harry’s temples and slipped into the boy’s mind. Doors jumped up, and the Doctor stayed away from them, “Now, try to push me out.” The Doctor felt a small push of resistance, “Good, that’s good. Harder now, don’t be afraid to hurt me, I’ve had hundreds of years of practice.” The Doctor felt a much harder push. “Brilliant, well done.” He praised, “Now try to imagine a wall.” The Doctor watched the wall begin to form. “Higher, stronger. Make the best wall you can make.” The Doctor helped him with his wall, Harry stayed silent throughout the whole affair. The Doctor pulled himself out, then said, “I’m going to try to get in, and I want you to use your wall to push me out. Don’t stop trying, even if I’m already in there.” Harry nodded, and the Doctor returned to his mind, easily knocking the wall down, and easily resisting Harry’s pushing.

Finally, the Doctor let Harry go to bed after teaching Harry a few more techniques, as it was getting late. “Let’s try again tomorrow night.” The Doctor said, “After your lesson with Snape, so we can see how he got in and defend against him specifically.” Harry nodded eagerly, he clearly enjoyed the session.

 

The next night, Harry came sprinting into the library where the Doctor said they’d be, as Hermione was determined to get everyone to start studying. “Doctor!” He called, the Doctor ran to him, quickly followed by Ron, Hermione, and Jack.

“What is it?”

“I’ve figured it out!” He exclaimed, quieting his voice as the librarian gave him a nasty look “That door, I’ve been dreaming about it for months, and I finally realized what’s behind it, it’s the Department of Mysteries. I asked Snape what was in it, and he wouldn’t tell me. And my scar hurt, I think Voldemort wants something from it.” The Doctor nodded thoughtfully,

“I know they call the people who work there ‘Unspeakables,’” Ron said, trying to be helpful, “Because no one really seems to know what they do in there… Weird place to have a weapon…”

“It’s not weird at all, it makes perfect sense,” said Hermione. “It will be something top secret that the Ministry has been developing, I expect…”

“Come on, let’s get back to the common room.” Jack said, sending a weary eye in the direction of the librarian.

But the common room was packed and full of shrieks of laughter and excitement; Fred and George were demonstrating their latest bit of joke shop merchandise. “Headless Hats!” Shouted George, as Fred waved a pointed hat decorated with a fluffy pink feather at the watching students. “Two Galleons each – watch Fred, now!” Fred swept the hat onto his head, beaming. For a second he nearly looked rather stupid, then both hat and head vanished. Several girls screamed, but everyone else was roaring with laughter. “And off again!” Shouted George, and Fred’s hand groped for a moment in what seemed to be thin air over his shoulder; then his head reappeared as he swept the pink-feathered hat from it again. The Doctor looked at Harry,

“Let’s find somewhere quiet to practice.” Harry nodded, and they went to Harry’s dormitory to practice. The moment Harry and the Doctor had gotten one step inside, Harry keeled over and started laughing like a madman. “Harry!” The Doctor was on his hands and knees, and quickly dove into Harry’s mind, clearly there had been a mental breach. That’s when the Doctor heard it, a mechanical laugh echoed throughout Harry’s mind, and the feeling of happiness, jubilance, triumph. With a shove, the Doctor sent whatever had been in Harry’s head out, then pulled himself out. Harry stared at him,

“Were you just?”

“Yes.”

“Something good’s happened.”

“Yes it has.” The Doctor ran his hands through his hair, “I just wish we knew what.”


	19. Mass Breakout

The answer to the Doctor’s question came the very next morning when Hermione’s _Daily Prophet_ arrived. She smoothed it out, gazed for a moment at the front page, and then gave a yelp that caused everyone in the vicinity to stare at her. “What?” Ron, Harry, and Jack said together as the Doctor grabbed the _Prophet._ He spread the newspaper out on the table in front of them and they all looked at the ten black-and-white photographs that filled the whole of the front page, nine showing wizards’ faces and the tenth a witch’s. Some of the people in the photographs were slightly jeering; others were tapping their fingers on the frame of their pictures, looking insolent. Each picture was captioned with a name and the crime for which the person had been sent to Azkaban.

 _Antonin Dolohov_ , read the legend beneath a wizard with a long, pale, twisted face who was sneering, _convicted of the brutal murder of Gideon and Fabian Prewett._

 _Augustus Rookwood,_ said the caption beneath a pockmarked man with greasy hair who was leaning against the edge of his picture looking bored, _convicted of leaking Ministry of Magic Secrets to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named._ The Doctor noticed Harry staring at the picture of the witch, so looked down as well. She had long dark hair that looked unkempt and straggly in the picture. She glared at the onlooking frame through heavily lidded eyes, an arrogant, disdainful smile playing around her thin mouth. _Bellatrix Lestrange, convicted of the torture and permanent incapacitation of Frank and Alice Longbottom._ The Doctor exchanged a look with Harry, one of sorrow, before Hermione elbowed the both of them, pointing at the headline over the pictures. It read:

 

**MASS BREAKOUT FROM AZKABAN**

**MINISTRY FEARS BLACK IS “RALLYING POINT”**

**FOR OLD DEATH EATERS**

 

The Doctor almost laughed, as much as Sirius despised him, he couldn’t see the man being a murderer. “Black?” Said Harry loudly. “Not – ?”

“ _Shhh!_ ” Whispered Hermione desperately. “Not so loud – just read it!”

 

The Ministry of Magic announced late last night that there has been a mass breakout from Azkaban.

Speaking to reporters in his private office, Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, confirmed that ten high-security prisoners escaped in the early hours of yesterday evening, and that he has already informed the Muggle Prime Minister of the dangerous nature of these individuals.

“We find ourselves, most unfortunately, in the same position we were two and a half years ago when the murder Sirius Black escaped,” said Fudge last night. “Nor do we think the two breakouts are unrelated. An escape of this magnitude suggests outside help, and we must remember that Black, as the first person ever to break out of Azkaban, would be ideally placed to help others follow in his footsteps. We think it likely that these individuals, who include Black’s cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange, have rallied around Black as their leader. We are, however, doing all we can to round up the criminals and beg the magical community to remain alert and cautious. On no account should any of these individuals be approached.”

 

“That’s why he was so happy last night.” The Doctor easily concluded,

“I don’t believe this,” snarled Harry, “Fudge is blaming the breakout on _Sirius_?”

“What other options does he have?” Said Hermione bitterly. “He can hardly say, ‘Sorry everyone, Dumbledore warned me this might happen, the Azkaban guards have joined Lord Voldemort’ – stop _whimpering,_ Ron – ‘and now Voldemort’s worst supporters have broken out too.’ I mean, he’s spent a good six months telling everyone you and Dumbledore are liars, hasn’t he?” Hermione grabbed the newspaper back and ripped it open and began to read the report. The Doctor saw Harry looking at the staff table, the Doctor looked as well. Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall were deep in conversation, both looking extremely grave. Professor Sprout had the _Prophet_ propped against a bottle of ketchup and was reading the front page with such concentration that she was not noticing the gentle drip of egg you falling into her lap from her stationary spoon. Meanwhile, at the far end of the table, Professor Umbridge was tucking into a bowl of porridge. For once, her pouchy eyes were not sweeping the Great Hall looking for misbehaving students. She scowled as she gulped down her food and every now and then she shot a malevolent glance up the table to where Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall were talking so intently. “Oh my –“ said Hermione wonderingly, still staring at the newspaper.

“What now?” Said Harry quickly,

“It’s… _horrible_ ,” said Hermione, looking shaken. She folded back the page ten of the newspaper and handed it back to Harry, Ron, Jack, and the Doctor.

 

**TRAGIC DEMISE OF MINISTRY OF MAGIC WORKER**

 

St. Mungo’s Hospital promised a full inquiry last night after Ministry of Magic worker Broderick Bode, 49, was discovered dead in his bed, strangled by a potted-plant. Healers called to the scene were unable to revive Mr. Bode, who had been injured in a workplace accident some weeks prior to his death.

Healer, Miriam Strout, who was in charge of Mr. Bode’s ward at the time of the incident, has been suspended on full pay and was unavailable for comment yesterday, but spokes wizard for the hospital said in a statement, “St. Mungo’s deeply regrets the death of Mr. Bode, whose health was improving steadily prior to this tragic accident.

“We have strict guidelines on the decorations permitted on our wards but it appears that Healer Strout, busy over the Christmas period, overlooked the dangers of the plant on Mr. Bode’s bedside table. As his speech and mobility improved, Healer Sprout encouraged Mr. Bode to look after the plant himself, unaware that it was not an innocent Flitterloom, but a cutting of Devil’s Snare which, when touched by the convalescent Mr. Bode, throttled him instantly.

“St. Mungo’s is as yet unable to account for the presence of the plant on the ward and asks any witch or wizard with information to come forward.”

 

“Bode…” said Ron. “ _Bode_. It rings a bell…”

“He was in the bed opposite to Gilderoy Lockhart’s.” The Doctor identified the man immediately,

“I met Bode,” Harry said suddenly, quite slowly. “I saw him at the Ministry with your dad,” Harry indicated to Ron, “When I went for my hearing.” Ron’s mouth fell open,

“I’ve heard Dad talk about him at home! He was an Unspeakable – he worked in the Department of Mysteries!” They exchanged looks for a moment, then Hermione pulled the newspaper back toward her, closed it, glared for a moment at the pictures of the ten escaped Death Eaters on the front, then leapt to her feet. “Where are you going?” Said Ron, startled,

“To send a letter,” said Hermione, swinging her bag onto her shoulder. “It… well, I don’t know whether… but it’s worth trying… and I’m the only one who can…”

“I _hate_ it when she does that,” grumbled Ron as he, Harry, Jack, and the Doctor got up from the table and made their own, slower way out of the Great Hall. “Would it kill her to tell us what she’s up to for once? It’d take her about ten more seconds – hey, Hagrid!” Professor Hagrid was standing beside the doors to the entrance hall, waiting for a crowd of Ravenclaws to pass. He was still as heavily bruised as he had been on the day he had come back from his mission to the giants and there was a new cut right across the bridge of his nose.

“All right’, you four?” He said, trying to muster a smile, but managing only a kind of pained grimace.

“Are you okay, Hagrid?” Asked Harry, following him as he lumbered after the Ravenclaws.

“Fine, fine,” said Professor Hagrid with a feeble assumption of airiness; he waved a hand and narrowly missed concussing a frightened-looking Professor Vector, who was passing. “Jus’ busy, yeh know, usual staff – lessons to prepare – couple o’ salamanders got scale rot – an’ I’m on probation,” he mumbled.

“ _You’re on probation_?” Said Ron very loudly, so that many students passing looked around curiously. “Sorry – I mean – you’re on probation?” He whispered.

“Yeah,” said Professor Hagrid. “’S’no more’n I expected, her tell yeh the truth. Yeh migh’ not’ve picked up on it, bu’ that inspection didn’ go too well, yeh know… anyway,” he sighed deeply. “Yes’ go an rub a but more chili powder on them salamanders or their tails’ll be hangin’ off ‘em next. See yeh Harry… Ron… Jack… John…” He trudged away, out the front doors and down the stone steps onto the damp grounds.

 

The fact that Professor Hagrid was now on probation became common knowledge within the school over the next few days, but hardly anybody appeared to be upset about it; indeed, some people, the slick-haired Draco Malfoy prominent among them, seemed positively gleeful. As for the freakish death of an obscure Department of Mysteries employee in St. Mungo’s, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Jack, and the Doctor seemed to be the only people who knew or cared. There was only one topic of conversation in the corridors now: the ten escaped Death Eaters, whose story had finally filtered through the school from those few people who read the newspapers. Rumors were flying that some of the convicts had been spotted in Hogsmeade, that they were supposed to be hiding out in the Shrieking Shack and that they were going to break into Hogwarts.

Those who came from Wizarding families had grown up hearing the names of these Death Eaters spoken with almost as much fear as Voldemort’s; the crimes they had committed during the days of Voldemort’s reign of terror were legendary. There were relatives of their victims among the Hogwarts students, who now found themselves the unwilling objects of a gruesome sort of reflected fame as they walked the corridors: Susan Bones, who had an uncle, aunt, and cousins who had all died at the hands of one of the ten, said miserably as they walked through the halls that she now had a good idea what it felt like to be Harry. “And I don’t know how you stand it, it’s horrible,” she said bluntly. It was true that Harry was the subject of much renewed muttering and pointing in the corridors these days, yet he thought the Doctor detected a slight difference in the tone if the whisperers’ voices. They sounded curious rather than hostile now.

It was not only the students’ mood that had changed. It was now quite common to come across two or three teachers conversing in low, urgent whispers in the corridors, breaking off their conversations the moment they saw students approaching. “They can’t talk freely in the staffroom anymore.” The Doctor concluded as they passed Professor McGonagall, Flitwick, and Sprout hustled together outside the Charms classroom one day. Hermione nodded,

“Not with Umbridge there.”

“Reckon they know anything new?” Said Ron, gazing back over his shoulder at the three teachers.

“If they do, we’re not going to hear about it, are we?” Said Harry angrily, “Not after Decree… What number are we on now?” For new signs had appeared on the house notice boards the morning after news of the Azkaban breakout:

 

**––––– By ORDER OF ––––**

**THE HIGH INQUISITOR OF HOGWARTS**

Teachers are hereby banned from giving students any information that is not strictly related to the subjects they are paid to teach

_The above is in accordance with_

_Educational Decree Number Twenty-six._

 

Signed:

Dolores Jane Umbridge

**HIGH INQUISITOR**

 

This latest decree had be the subject of a great number of jokes among the students. Lee Jordan had pointed out to Professor Umbridge that by the terms of the new rule she was not allowed to tell Fred and George off for playing Exploding Snap in the back of the class. “Exploding Snap’s got nothing to do with Defense Against the Dark Arts, Professor! That’s not information relating to your subject!” The next time the Doctor saw Lee, the back of his hand was bleeding rather badly.

The breakout from Azkaban seemed to intensified Professor Umbridge’s furious desire to bring every aspect of life at Hogwarts under her personal control. She seemed determined at the very least to achieve a sacking before long, and the only question was whether it would be Professor Trelawney or Professor Hagrid who went first.

From what Harry told the Doctor, every single Divination lesson and Care of Magical Creatures lesson was now conducted in the presence of Professor Umbridge and her clipboard. She lurked by the fire in the heavily perfumed tower room, interrupting Professor Trelawney’s increasingly hysterical talks with different questions about Ornithomancy and Heptomology, insisting that she predict students’ answers before they gave them and demanding that she demonstrate her skill at the crystal ball, the tea leaves, and the rune stones in turn. From what he saw of Professor Trelawney, he thought she might soon crack under the strain; several times he passed her in the corridors (in itself a very unusual occurrence as she generally remained in her tower room), muttering wildly to herself, wringing her hands, and shooting terrified glances over her shoulder, all the time giving off a powerful smell of cooking sherry. Unfortunately, Professor Hagrid did not seem to be putting up a better show than Trelawney. Though he seemed to be following Hermione’s advice and had shown them nothing more frightening than a cup, a creature indistinguishable from a Jack Russell terrier except for its forked tail, since before Christmas, he also seemed to have lost his nerve. Harry seemed to have noticed that he was oddly distracted and jumpy during lessons, losing the thread of what he was saying while talking in class, answering questions wrongly and glancing anxiously at Professor Umbridge all the time. He was also much more distant with Harry, Ron, Hermione, Jack, and the Doctor than he had been, expressly forbidding them to visit him after dark.

The Doctor was pleased to return to the D.A. Everyone, even Zacharias Smith, had been spurred to work harder than ever by the news that ten more Death Eaters were now on the loose, but in nobody was this improvement more pronounced than in Neville. The news of his parents’ attacker’s escape had wrought a strange and even slightly alarming change in him. He had not once mentioned his meeting the Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Jack, and the Doctor on the closed ward in St. Mungo’s, and was taking their lead from him, they had kept quiet about it too. Nor had he said anything on the subject of Bellatrix and her fellow torturers’ escape; in fact, he barely spoke during D.A. meetings anymore, but worked relentlessly on every new jinx and countercurse he was taught, his face screwed up in concentration, apparently indifferent to injuries or accidents, working harder than anyone else in the room. He was improving so fast it was quite unnerving.

The Doctor was rather alarmed when Harry mentioned that even after all his Occlumency lessons, his scar hardly ever stopped prickling. “He’s getting stronger. Everything he’s feeling is more powerful.” He concluded, Harry nodded.


	20. Seen and Unforeseen

Hermione had been much more willing to let the Doctor help with her homework since she learned he was an ancient alien. As he helped her finish her star chart for Astronomy when Fred and George walked into the common room. “Ron and Ginny not here?” Asked Fred, the Doctor had noticed their absence earlier, Hermione had said they’d gone to get baths after Quidditch practice. She shook her head, and Fred, looking around as he pulled up a chair said “Good. We were watching their Quidditch practice. They’re going to be slaughtered. They’re complete rubbish without us.”

“Come on, Ginny’s not bad,” said George fairly, sitting down next to Fred. “Actually, I dunno how she got so good, seeing how we never let her play with us…”

“She’s been breaking into your broom shed in the garden since the age of six and taking each of your brooms out in turn when you weren’t looking,” said Hermione, putting the final label on her chart.

“Oh,” said George, looking mildly impressed. “Well – that’d explain it.”

“Has Ron saved a goal yet?” Asked Hermione. The Doctor turned to Harry, who gestured a need for help with his massive stack of homework. Well, massive for Earth terms, in the Academy, this would have been nothing.

They entered the Great Hall for breakfast at exactly the same moment as the post owls on Monday morning. Hermione was not the only person eagerly awaiting her _Daily Prophet_ : Nearly everyone was eager for more news about the escaped Death Eaters, who, despite many reported sightings, had still not been caught . She gave a delivery owl a Knut and unfolded the newspaper eagerly as an owl landed on Harry’s shoulder. “Who’re you after?” He asked it, languidly removing his orange juice from underneath its beak and leaning forward to see the recipients name and address:

_Harry Potter_

_Great Hall_

_Hogwarts School_

 

Then, four or five more owls fluttered down beside it and were jockeying for position, treading in the butter, knocking over the salt, and each attempting to give him their letters first.

“What’s going on?” Ron asked in amazement, as the whole of the Gryffindor table leaned forward to watch as another seven owls landed amongst the first ones, screeching, hooting, and flapping their wings.

“Harry!” Said Hermione breathlessly, plunging her hands into the feathery mass and pulling out a screech owl bearing a long, cylindrical package. “I think I know what this means – open this one first!” The Doctor watched as Harry ripped off the brown packaging. Out rolled a tightly furled copy of March’s edition of _The Quibbler_ , a newspaper that Luna’s father edited. The Doctor remembered Harry mentioning something about having an interview with a woman named Rita Skeeter, but did not think the consequences would result in this. Harry unrolled it to see his own face grinning sheepishly at him from the front cover. In large red letters across his picture were the words:

**HARRY POTTER SPEAKS OUT AT LAST:**

**THE TRUTH ABOUT HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED**

**AND THE NIGHT I SAW HIM RETURN**

 

“It’s good, isn’t it?” The Doctor heard Luna approach, and quietly slid behind Jack, “It came out yesterday, I asked Dad to send you a free copy. I expect all these,” she waved her hand at the assembled owls still scrabbling around on the table in front of Harry, “are letters from readers.”

“That’s what I thought,” said Hermione eagerly, “Harry, d’you mind if we – ?”

“Help yourself,” said Harry, sounding slightly bemused. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Jack, and the Doctor started ripping open envelopes. “This one’s from a bloke who thinks you’re off your rocker,” said Ron, glancing down his letter. “Ah well…”

“This woman recommends you try a good course of Shock Spells at St. Mungo’s,” said Hermione, looking disappointed and crumpling up a second.

“This one looks okay, though,” said Harry slowly, scanning a long letter. “Hey, she says she believes me!”

“This one’s in two minds,” said Jack, “He says you don’t come across as a mad person, but he really doesn’t want to believe You-Know-Who is back, so now he doesn’t know what to think…”

“Here’s another once you’ve convinced, Harry!” Said Hermione excitedly. “‘Having read your side of the story I am forced to the conclusion that the _Daily Prophet_ has treated you very unfairly… Little though I want to think that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has returned, I am forced to accept that you are telling the truth…’ Oh this is wonderful!”

“Another one who think’s your barking,” said Ron, throwing a crumbled letter over his shoulder, “but this one says you’ve got her converted, and now she thinks you’re a real hero – she’s put in a photograph too – wow –“

“What is going on here?” Said a falsely sweet, girlish voice. The Doctor looked up at Professor Umbridge, her eyes scanning the mess of owls and letters on the table in front of Harry. Behind her, he saw many of the students watching them avidly. “Why have you got all these letters, Mr. Potter?” She asked slowly,

“Is that a crime now?” Said Fred loudly. “Getting mail?”

“Be careful, Mr. Weasley, or I shall have to put you in detention,” said Professor Umbridge. “Well, Mr. Potter?” The Doctor looked at Harry, Harry watched his eyes as they glanced at the Quibbler, then nodded, sending a message to tell her. Harry looked up,

“People have written to me because I gave an interview,” he said, “About what happened to me last June.”

“An interview?” Repeated Professor Umbridge, he voice thinner and higher than ever. “What do you mean?”

“When he went to Hogsmeade, an interviewer invited him for an interview.” The Doctor said, “That violates none of your decrees.” Her face tightened as she snatched up the copy of _The Quibbler_. She took a deep breath and looked at Harry and the Doctor,

“There will be no more Hogsmeade trips for you, Mr. Potter,” She whispered. “As for you, Mr. Smith, clearly you haven’t learned your lesson yet. Both you and Mr. Potter have another week’s worth of detentions.” She stalked away, the eyes of many students following her.

By mid-morning, enormous signs had been put up all over the school, not just on House notice boards, but in corridors and classrooms too.

 

**––––– By ORDER OF ––––**

**THE HIGH INQUISITOR OF HOGWARTS**

Any student found in possession of the magazine _The Quibbler_ will be expelled.

_The above is in accordance with_

_Educational Decree Number Twenty-seven._

 

Signed:

Dolores Jane Umbridge

**HIGH INQUISITOR**

 

The Doctor and Hermione both beamed as they caught sight of the signs. “What exactly are you two so happy about?” Harry asked them. The Doctor laughed and explained,

“She’s just ensured that everyone in the school will have read your interview by lunch.”

The Doctor wasn’t wrong, as by the end of the day, the whole school seemed to be quoting the interview at each other. Professor Umbridge was stalking the school, stopping students at random and demanding they turn out their books and pockets, clearly searching for copies of _The Quibbler_ , but the students were several steps ahead of her. The pages carrying Harry’s interview had been bewitched to resemble extracts from textbooks if anyone but themselves wanted to read it, or else wiped magically blank until they wanted to pursue it again. Soon it seemed that every single student in the school had read it.

Harry was something of a hero in the Gryffindor common room that night; daringly, Fred and George had put an Enlargement Charm on the front cover of _The Quibbler_ and hung it on the wall so that Harry’s giant head gazed down upon the proceedings occasionally saying things like, “The Ministry are morons,” and “Eat dung, Umbridge” in a booming voice. Hermione did not find this very amusing: she said it interfered with her concentration and ended up going to bed early out of irritation. The Doctor had to admit that the poster was not quite as funny after an hour or two, especially when the talking spell had started to wear off, so that it nearly shouted disconnected words like “Dung” and “Umbridge” at more and more frequent intervals in a progressively higher and voice. The Doctor noticed Harry’s hand flick toward his scar for a moment, so invited him upstairs to Harry’s dormitory. “It’s prickling again.” Harry said as the Doctor sat down and gestured for Harry to do the same. Knowing what he was implying, Harry sat down on the bed with the Doctor. Carefully, the Doctor placed his hands on Harry’s temples. It was quiet, nothing out of place, but then without warning, a force shoved its way into Harry’s mind. The Doctor watched as Voldemort was standing in a dark, curtained room lit by a single branch of candles. Voldemort's hands were clenched on the back of a chair in front of him. His skin was white, as though they had not seen sunlight for years. Beyond the chair, in a pool of light cast upon the floor by the candles, knelt an man in black robes. “I have been badly advised, it seems,” said Voldemort in a high, cold voice that pulsed with anger.

“Master, I crave your pardon…” croaked the man kneeling on the floor. The back of his head glimmered in the candlelight. He seemed to be trembling.

“I do not blame you. Rookwood,” said Voldemort, he released his grip upon the chair and walked around it, closer to the man cowering upon the floor until he stood directly over him in the darkness, looking down at him. “You are sure of your facts, Rookwood?” Voldemort asked,

“Yes, My Lord, yes… I used to work in the department after – after all…”

“Avery told me Bode would be able to remove it.”

“Bode could never have taken it, Master… Bode would have known he could not… Undoubtedly that is why he fought so hard against Malfoy’s Imperius Curse…”

“Stand up, Rookwood.” Voldemort whispered. The kneeling man almost fell over in his haste to obey. His face was pockmarked; the scars were thrown into relief by the candlelight. He remained a little stooped when standing, as though halfway through a bow, and he darted terrified looks up at Voldemort’s face. “You have done well to tell me this,” said Voldemort. “Very well… I have wasted months of fruitless schemes, it seems… But no matter… We begin again, from now. You have Lord Voldemort’s gratitude, Rookwood…”

“My Lord… yes, My Lord.” Gasped Rookwood, his voice hoarse with relief,

“I shall need your help. I shall need all the information you can give me.”

“Of course My Lord, of course… anything…”

“Very well… you may go. Send Avery to me.” Rookwood scurried backward, bowing and disappeared through a door. The Doctor suddenly wondered where Harry was, then, with horror, he realized as Voldemort walked forward in front of a mirror, the reflection grew larger and clearer in the darkness. A white face with red eyes and slits for pupils. Shoving the intruder out of Harry’s head, the Doctor felt Harry finally relax, as his body had been tensed up against his own. The Doctor pulled himself out of Harry’s head. Staring at him, Harry looked afraid.

“He’s angry.” Harry said finally, the Doctor nodded,

"Avery, who is he?”

“I don’t know, some Ministry worker.”

“This is what Occlumency is supposed to prevent.”

“Why isn’t it working?” The Doctor pulled his sonic screwdriver out and scanned Harry’s head again,

“I don’t know. Something’s not right.” Harry nodded, “You should get some sleep.” Harry shook his head,

“I don’t think I can.”

“Want some help?” Harry cocked his head as the Doctor placed his fingers on the boy’s temples and sent him into a dreamless sleep. He needed no more nightmares.

 

The Doctor and Harry waited until break next morning to tell Hermione, Ron, and Jack exactly what happened. They wanted to be absolutely sure they would not be overheard. Standing in their usual corner of the cool and breezy courtyard, Harry told them every detail of the dream he could remember, the Doctor filling in the missing pieces. When he had finished, Ron just stared, Jack seemed to be thinking, and Hermione said nothing at all for a few moments. “So that’s why they killed him,” she said quietly, implying to the death of Bode, the Doctor nodded,

“When Bode tried to steal this weapon, something happened to him.” Jack said,

“There must be defensive spells in it or around it, to stop people from touching it.” Hermione added,

“That’s why he was in St. Mungo’s.” Ron concluded.

“But remember what the Healer told us? He was recovering. And they couldn’t risk him getting better, could they? I mean, the show of whatever happened when he touched the weapon probably made the Imperious Curse lift.” Hermione said, “Once he’d got his voice back, he’d explain what he’d been doing, wouldn’t he? They would have known he’d been sent to steal the weapon. Of course, it would have been easy for Lucius Malfoy to put the curse on him. Never out of the Ministry, is he?”

“He was hanging mourned that day I had my hearing,” said Harry. “In the – hang on…” he said slowly. “He was in the Department of Mysteries corridor that day! Your dad said he was probably trying to sneak down and find out what happened in my hearing, but what if –“

“Sturgis,” gasped Hermione, looking thunderstruck.

“Sorry?” Said Ron, looking bewildered,

“Sturgis Podmore,” said Hermione breathlessly. “Arrested for trying to get through a door. Lucius Malfoy got him too. I bet he did it the day you saw him there, Harry. Sturgis had Moody’s invisibility cloaks, right? So what if he was standing guard by the door, invisible, and Malfoy heard him move, or guessed he was there, or just did the Imperius Curse on the off chance that a guard was there? So when Sturgis next had an opportunity – probably when it was his turn on guard duty again – he tried to get into the department to steal the weapon for Voldemort but he got caught and sent to Azkaban…” The Doctor nodded, agreeing,

“And now Rookwood’s told Voldemort how to get the weapon?” Asked Ron,

“I didn’t hear all the conversation, bu that’s what it sounded like.” Said Harry. “Rookwood used to work there… Maybe Voldemort’ll send Rookwood to do it?”

“But you shouldn’t have seen this at all, Harry.” Hermione said abruptly,

“It’s not the occlumency.” The Doctor said, Hermione looked at him curiously, “Something else is at play.”

“Well I think we should just try to forget what you saw,” said Hermione firmly, the Doctor exchanged a look with Harry, there was no way that was going to happen.

 

Detention was just as bad as it had been before. Harry was sitting at the table having his hand cut with the quill, staring in horror as the Doctor writhed with pain on the floor.

The next morning, the Doctor awoke to soreness everywhere. Dragging himself up, he headed to breakfast.

Before he knew it, the Doctor was exiting his class to screaming. Running towards the source of the screams, the Doctor saw Professor Trelawney standing in the middle of the entrance hall with her wand in one hand and an empty sherry bottle in the other, looking utterly mad. Her hair was sticking up on end, her glasses were lopsided so that one eye was magnified more than the other; her innumerable shawls and scarves were trailing haphazardly from her shoulders, giving the impression that she was falling apart at the seams. Two large trunks lay on the floor beside her, one of them upside down; it looked very much as though it had been thrown down the stairs after her. Professor Trelawney was staring, apparently terrified, at something standing at the foot of the stairs.

“No!” She shrieked, “NO! This cannot be happening… It cannot… I refuse to accept it!”

“You didn’t realize this was coming?” Said a high girlish voice, sounding callously amused, “Incapable though you are of predicting even tomorrow’s weather, you must surely have realized that your pitiful performance during my expectations, and lack of any improvement, would make it inevitable you would be sacked?”

“You c-can’t!” Howled Professor Trelawney, tears streaming down her face from behind her enormous lenses, “you c-can’t sack me! I’ve b-been here sixteen years! H-Hogwarts is m-my h-home!”

“It _was_ your home,” said Professor Umbridge, the enjoyment stretched across her face as she watched Professor Trelawney sink, sobbing uncontrollably, onto one of her trunks, “until an hour ago, when the Minister of Magic countersigned the order for your dismissal. Now kindly remove yourself from this hall. You are embarrassing us.”But she stood and watched, with an expression of gloating enjoyment, as Professor Trelawney shuddered and moaned, rocking backward and forward on her trunk in paroxysms of grief. Then, he heard footsteps, Professor McGonagall had broken away from the spectators, marched straight up to Professor Trelawney and was patting her firmly on the back while withdrawing a large handkerchief from within her robes.

“There, there, Sybill… Calm down… Blow your nose on this… It’s not as bad as you think, now… You are not going to have to leave Hogwarts…”

“Oh really, Professor McGonagall?” Said Professor Umbridge in a deadly voice, taking a few steps forward. “And your authority for that statement is…?”

“That would be mine,” said a deep voice. The oak front doors had swung open. Students beside them scuttled out of the way as Professor Dumbledore appeared in the entrance. Leaving the doors wide behind him, he strode forward through the circle of onlookers toward the place where Professor Trelawney sat, tearstained and trembling, upon her trunk, Professor McGonagall alongside her.

“Yours, Professor Dumbledore?” Said Professor Umbridge with a singularly unpleasant little laugh. “I’m afraid you do not understand the position. I have here” – she pulled out a parchment scroll from within her robes – “and Order of Dismissal signed by myself and the Minister of Magic. Under the terms of Educational Decree Number Twenty-three, the High Inquisitor of Hogwarts has the power to inspect, place upon probation, and sack any teacher she – that is to say, I – feel is not performing up to the standard required by the Ministry of Magic. I have decided that Professor Trelawney is not up to scratch. I have dismissed her.” Professor Dumbledore continued to smile. He looked down at Professor Trelawney, who was still sobbing and choking on her trunk and said,

“You are quite right, of course, Professor Umbridge. As High Inquisitor you have every right to dismiss my teachers. You do not, however, have the authority to send them away from the castle, I’m afraid,” he went on, with a courteous little bow, “that the power to do that still remains with the headmaster, and it is my wish that Professor Trelawney continue to live at Hogwarts.”

At this, Professor Trelawney gave a wild laugh in which a hiccup was barely hidden. “No – no, I’ll g-go, Dumbledore! I sh-shall l-leave Hogwarts and s-seek my fortune elsewhere –“

“No,” Professor Dumbledore said sharply. “It I my wish that you remain, Sybill.” He then turned to Professor McGonagall, “Might I ask you to escort Sybill back upstairs, Professor McGonagall?”

“Of course.” Said Professor McGonagall, “Up you get, Sybill…” Professor Sprout came hurrying forward out of the crowd and grabbed Professor Trelawney’s other arm. Together, they guided her past Professor Umbridge and up the marble stairs. Professor Flitwick went scurrying after them, his wand held out before him: he squeaked, “ _Locomotor trunks!_ ” And Professor Trelawney’s luggage rose into the air and proceeded u the staircase after her, Professor Flitwick bringing up the rear. Professor Umbridge was standing stock-still, staring at Professor Dumbledore, who continued to smile benignly.

“And what,” she said in a whisper that nevertheless carried all around the entrance hall, “are you going to do with her once I appoint a new Divination teacher who needs her lodgings?”

“Oh, that won’t be a problem,” said Professor Dumbledore pleasantly. “You see, I have already found a new Divination teacher, and he will prefer lodgings on the ground floor.”

“You’ve found –?” Said Professor Umbridge shrilly. “ _You’ve_ found? Might I remind you, Dumbledore, that under Educational Decree Twenty-two –“

“– the Ministry has the right to appoint a suitable candidate if – and only if – the headmaster is unable to find one.” Said Professor Dumbledore. “And I am happy to say that on this occasion I have succeeded. May I introduce you?” He turned to face the open front doors, through which night mist was now drifting, and the Doctor heard hooves. There was a shocked murmur around the hall and those nearest the doors hastily moved even farther backward, some of them tripping over in their haste to clear a path for the newcomer. Through the mist came a centaur with white-blonde hair and astonishingly blue eyes, the head and torso of a man joined to the palomino body of a horse.

“This is Firenze,” said Professor Dumbledore happily to a thunderstruck Professor Umbridge, “I think you’ll find him suitable.”


	21. The Centaur and the Sneak

The moment he could, the Doctor signed up for divination. Professor McGonagall was happy to let him. At breakfast time a few days after the sacking of Professor Trelawney, a girl named Parvati Patil was curling her eyelashes around her wand and examining the effect on the back of her spoon. “I’ll bet you wish you hadn’t given up Divination now, don’t you Hermione?” She smirked, they were to have their first lesson with Firenze that morning.

“Not really,” said Hermione indifferently, who was reading the _Daily Prophet_. “I’ve never really liked horses.” The Doctor looked at her,

“He’s not a horse, he’s a centaur.”

“A _gorgeous_ centaur…” sighed another girl named Lavender, the Doctor ignored her,

“Either way, he’s still got four legs,” said Hermione cooly,

“He’s as much a horse as you’re an ape. Take that as you will.” The Doctor said, matching her tone, she rolled her eyes,

“Anyway, Parvati, Lavender, I thought you two were all upset that Trelawney had gone?”

“We are!” Lavender assured her. “We went up to her office to see her, we took her some daffodils – not the honking ones that Sprout’s got, nice ones…”

“How is she?” Asked Harry.

“Not very good, poor thing.” Said Lavender sympathetically. “She was crying and saying she’d rather leave the castle forever than stay here if Umbridge is still here, and I don’t blame her. Umbridge was horrible to her, wasn’t she?”

“I’ve got a feeling Umbridge has only just started being horrible,” said Hermione darkly, Harry glanced at the Doctor, clearly remembering Professor Umbridge shooting curses at him.

“I don’t think she can get any worse.”

“You mark my words, she’s going to want revenge on Dumbledore for appointing a new teacher without consulting her,” said Hermione, closing the newspaper. “Especially another part-human. You saw the look on her face when she saw Firenze…”

After breakfast, Hermione departed for her Arithmancy class and Harry, Ron, and the Doctor followed Parvati and Lavender into the entrance hall, heading for Divination. “Aren’t we going up to North Tower?” Asked Ron, looking puzzled, as Parvati bypassed the marble staircase. Parvati looked scornfully over her shoulder at him

“How d’you exact Firenze to climb that ladder? We’re in classroom eleven now, it was on the notice board yesterday.”

Classroom eleven was situated in the ground-floor corridor leading off the entrance hall on the opposite side of the Great Hall. When the Doctor entered right behind Harry, he found himself right in the middle of a forest clearing. Harry stopped, looking around,

“What the –“ The Doctor looked around, the classroom floor had become springily mossy and trees were growing out of it; their leafy branches fanned across the ceiling and windows so that the room was full of slanting shafts of soft, dappled, green light. The students who had already arrived were sitting on the earthy floor with their backs resting against tree trunks or boulders, arms wrapped around their knees or folded tightly across their chests, looking rather nervous. In the middle of the room, where there were no trees, stood Firenze.

“Harry Potter,” he said, holding out a hand to Harry as he entered,

“Er – hi,” said Harry, shaking the centaur’s hand. Firenze surveyed him, unblinking, and did not smile. “Er – good to see you…”

“And you,” said the centaur, inclining his white-blond head. “It was foretold that we would meet again.” The Doctor noticed a shadow of a hoof-shaped bruise on Firenze’s chest. The Doctor noticed all the students were looking at Harry with awe, apparently deeply impressed that he was on speaking terms with Firenze, whom they seemed to find intimidating. Firenze then turned to the Doctor,

“The stars told me our paths would cross, child of Gallifrey.” The Doctor nodded wordlessly, he remembered the centaurs, he saved their species from a disease that was killing their females.

When the door was closed and the last student had sat down upon a tree stump beside the wastepaper basket, Firenze gestured around the room. “Professor Dumbledore has Kindly arranged this classroom for us,” said Firenze, when everyone had settled down, “in imitation of my natural habitat. I would have preferred to teach you in the Forbidden Forest, which was – until Monday – my home… but this is not possible.”

“Please – er – sir –“ said Parvati breathlessly, raising her hand, “why not? We’ve been in there with Hagrid, we’re not frightened!”

“It is not a question of your bravery,” said Firenze, “but of my position. I can no longer return to the forest. My herd has banished me.”

“Herd?” Said Lavender in a confused voice, “What – oh!” Comprehension dawned on her face. “There are _more of you_?” She said, stunned.

“Did Hagrid breed you, like the thestrals?” Asked Dean eagerly. The Doctor nearly laughed. Firenze turned his head very slowly to face Dean, who seemed to realize at once that he had said something very offensive.

“I didn’t – I meant – sorry.” He finished in a hushed voice.

“Centaurs are not the servants or playthings of humans,” said Firenze quietly. There was a pause, then Parvati raised her hand again.

“Please, sir… why have the other centaurs banished you?”

“Because I have agreed to work for Professor Dumbledore,” said Firenze. “They see this as a betrayal of our kind.” The room went silent again, and Firenze said, “Let us begin,” he swished his long palomino tail, raised his hand toward the leafy canopy overhead then lowered it slowly, and as he did so, the light in the room dimmed, so that they now seemed to be sitting in a forest clearing by twilight, and the stars emerged upon the ceiling. There were _oohs_ and gasps, and Ron said audibly,

“Blimey!”

“Lie back upon the floor,” said Firenze in his calm voice, “and observe the heavens. Here is written, for those who can see the fortune of our races.” The Doctor lay back upon the ground. A twinkling red star winked at him from overhead.

“I know that you have learned the names of the planets and their moons in Astronomy,” said Firenze’s calm voice, “and you have taped the stars’ progress through the heavens. Centaurs have unraveled the mysteries of these movements over centuries. Our findings teach us that the future may be glimpsed in the sky above us…”

“Professor Trelawney did Astrology with us!” Said Parvati excitedly, raising her hand in front of her so that it stuck up in the air as she lay on her back. “Mars causes accidents and burns and things like that, and when it makes an angle to Saturn, like now” – she drew a right angle in the air above her – “that means that people need to be extra careful when handling hot things –“

“That,” Firenze said calmly, “is human nonsense.” Parvati’s hand fell limply to her side. “Trivial hurts, tiny human accidents, these are of no more significance than the scurrying of ants to the wide universe, and are unaffected by planetary movements.”

“Professor Trelawney –“ began Parvati, in a hurt and indignant voice,

“– is human,” said Firenze simply. “And is therefore blinkered and battered by the limitations of your kind.” Parvati looked very offended, as did several people surrounding her.

“Sybill Trelawney may have Seen, I do not know,” continued Firenze, “but she wastes her time, in the main, on the self-flattering nonsense humans call fortune-telling. I, however, am here to explain the wisdom of centaurs, which is impersonal and impartial. We watch the skies for the great tides of evil or change that are sometimes marked there. It may take ten years to be sure of what we are seeing. Firenze pointed to a red star above the Doctor, “In the past decade, the indications have been that Wizard-kind is living through nothing more than a brief calm between two wars. Mars, bringer of battle, shines brightly above us, suggesting that the fight bust break out again soon. How soon, centaurs may attempt to divine by the burning of certain herbs and leaves, by the observation of fume and flame…” The Doctor saw Harry’s hand raised in the air, Firenze nodded to him,

“But if time is always in flux, how can you predict the future?” The Doctor grinned, clearly Harry had been listening to him.

“Time is stable. Nothing can affect it.” The Doctor grinned and caught Harry’s eye, neither said anything.

The lesson was unusual, they did indeed burn sage and mallowsweet there on the classroom floor, the Doctor easily finding the shapes and symbols in it. Firenze smiled at him, clearly pleased with the results, though no one else managed to do it.

The bell rang right outside the classroom door and everyone jumped. The class filed out, looking slightly perplexed; the Doctor, Harry, and Ron made to follow, when Firenze called, “Harry Potter, Doctor, I’d like a word.” The Doctor and Harry turned. The centaur advanced a little towards them. Ron hesitated. “You may stay,” Firenze told him. “But close the door please.” Ron hastened to obey. “Harry Potter, you are a friend of Hagrid’s, are you not?” said the centaur.

“Yes,” said Harry.

“Then give him a warning from me. His attempt is not working. He would do better to abandon it.”

“His attempt is not working?” Harry repeated blankly.

“And he would do better to abandon it,” said Firenze, nodding. “I would warn Hagrid myself, but I am banished – it would be unwise for me to go too near the forest now – Hagrid has troubles enough, without a centaurs’ battle.”

“But – what’s Hagrid attempting to do?” Harry asked nervously. Firenze looked at Harry impassively,

“Hagrid has recently rendered me a great service,” said Firenze, “and he has long since earned my respect for the care he shows all living creatures. I shall not betray his secret. But he must be brought to his senses. The attempt is not working. Tell him, Harry Potter. Good day to you. Now Doctor, I would like a private word.” Harry and Ron left the room, and Firenze turned to the Doctor, “What is your business here, Time Lord?” He asked, “You only come in times of trouble?”

“No, no,” The Doctor said, “No, I’m just here for a visit, why? Is there trouble?”

“The oncoming war, Doctor, I fear it is nearer than one might think.” The Doctor hesitated,

“Fixed point, Firenze, there’s nothing I can do. Things must play out.” Firenze gave a deep nod,

“Very well, Time Lord. But beware, I take this news with understanding, the other centaurs may not take it as kindly.” The Doctor nodded,

“I’ll do my best to stay away from the forest.”

In the D.A. they had just begun learning how to cast a patronus, something many students had been very keen to practice. The Doctor walked over to Neville to try to help him. Little wisps of silver were coming out of his wand, and his face was screwed with concentration.

“What are you trying to think about?” The Doctor inquired, Neville hesitated,

“My mum and dad.” He said, looking down at his feet, “But every time I think of them as they were, I see them as they are.” The Doctor nodded,

“I’m sorry.” Neville nodded,

“What do you think about?” The Doctor smiled sadly,

“I can’t make one.” Neville looked up in surprise,

“Really?”

“Really.”

“But you’re so good at magic.” Suddenly, the door opened and a small house elf came running in towards Harry,

“Hi, Dobby!” Harry said, “What are you – what’s wrong?” For the elf’s eyes were wide with terror and he was shaking.

“Harry Potter, sir…” Squeaked the elf, trembling from head to foot, “Harry Potter, sir… Dobby has come to warn you… but the house-elves have been warned not to tell…” He ran headfirst at the wall, Harry made to seize him, but Dobby merely bounced off the stone.

“What’s happening, Dobby?” Harry asked, grabbing the elf’s tiny arm and holding him away from anything with which he might seek to hurt himself.

“Harry Potter…she…she…” Dobby hit himself hard on the nose with his free fist: Harry seized that too.  
“Who’s ‘she,’ Dobby?” Then, realization dawned on Harry’s face, “Umbridge?” he asked, horrified. Dobby nodded, then tried to bang his head off Harry’s knees, Harry held him at bay.

“What about her? Dobby – she hasn’t found out about this – about us – about the D.A.?” The elf tried to kick himself and sank to his knees. “Is she coming?” Harry asked quietly, Dobby let out a howl.

“Yes, Harry Potter, yes!” The moment Dobby gave confirmation the Professor Umbridge was coming, the Doctor called out,

“Run!” Everyone in the room sprinted toward the exit at once, forming a scrum at the door, then people burst through; the Doctor could hear them sprinting along the corridors and hoped they had the sense not to try and make it all the way to their dormitories. The Doctor grabbed Harry’s arm, as he had frozen, and Harry scooped up Dobby. The Doctor, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Jack sprinted out into the corridor. The Doctor heard shouts behind him, spinning around as he ran, he saw spells shooting at them, and started shooting some back, “ _Protego! Expelliarmus!_ ” They rounded the corner, just as a spell caught Harry’s foot, he toppled over,

“Trip Jinx, Potter!” Draco Malfoy said, “Hey, Professor – PROFESSOR! I’ve got one!” The Doctor tried to turn to help him, but was grabbed by Jack,

“Come on, we have to get out of here!” He said, dragging the Doctor down the corridor.

The Doctor, Jack, Ron, and Hermione took refuge in the library, the Doctor tossing a book at each of them, then jumping down at a table pretending to be intently immersed in a book, the others quickly caught on, picking up the books and pretended to be discussing the plots. Draco Malfoy and two other Slytherins came barging in noisily, clearly searching for anyone out of breath. Hidden behind their books, they were glossed over quickly. Once the comotion simmered down, the Doctor, Hermione, and Ron retreated to the Gryffindor Common Room and Jack to the Slytherin. They sat in the Common Room, just waiting for Harry to return, when he finally did, he was escorted by Professor McGonagall. He looked as though he was in shock. The Doctor led him to a chair, and they sat around him. After a long pause, Harry just said, “Dumbledore’s gone.”


	22. The Departure of the Weasley Twins

“Gone how?” Hermione asked, staring at Harry,

“He’s disapparated – and I know, Hermione, you can’t do that in Hogwarts, but that’s what he did – He claimed _he’d_ created the D.A. as an army against Fudge. Fudge tried to arrest him, so he disapparated, told me to work hard on my Occlumency.” The Doctor nodded, unsure what to say.

  


**––––– By ORDER OF ––––**

**THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC**

 

Dolores Jane Umbridge (High Inquisitor) has replaced Albus Dumbledore as Head of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

 

_The above is in accordance with_

_Educational Decree Number Twenty-eight._

 

Signed:

_Cornelius Oswald Fudge_

**MINISTER OF MAGIC**

 

The notices had gone up all over the school overnight, but they did not explain how every single person within the castle seemed to know that Professor Dumbledore had overcome two Aurors, the High Inquisitor, the Minister of Magic, and his Junior Assistant to escape. No matter where the Doctor went within the castle the next day, the sole topic of conversation was Professor Dumbledore’s flight, and, Harry had mentioned that, though some of the details might have gone awry in the retelling, it was surprising how accurate the rest of the information was.

“Dumbledore will be back before long,” said Ernie Macmillan confidently on their way to the Great Hall for lunch after listening intently to Harry’s story. “They couldn’t keep him away in our second year and they won’t be able to this time. The Fat Friar told me…” He dropped his voice conspiratorially, so that Harry, Ron, Hermione, the Doctor, and Jack had to lean in closer to him to hear, “…that Umbridge tried to get back into his office last night after they’d searched the castle and grounds for him. Couldn’t get past the gargoyle. The Head’s office has sealed itself against her.” Ernie smirked. “Apparently she had a right little tantrum…”

“Oh, I expect she really fancied herself sitting up there in the Head’s office,” said Hermione viciously, “Lording it over all the other teachers, the stupid puffed up, power-crazy old –”

“Now, do you _really_ want to finish that sentence, Granger?” Draco Malfoy had slid out from behind the door followed by his cronies, Crabbe and Goyle. His pale, pointed face was alight with malice. “Afraid I’m going to have to dock a few points from Gryffindor and Hufflepuff,” He drawled.

“You can’t take points from fellow prefects, Malfoy,” said Ernie at once.

“I know _prefects_ can’t dock points from each other,” sneered Draco; Crabbe and Goyle sniggered. “But members of the Inquisitorial Squad –“

“The _what_?” Said Hermione sharply.

“The Inquisitorial Squad, Granger,” said Draco, pointing toward a tiny silver _I_ on his robes just beneath his prefect’s badge. “A select group of students who are supportive of the Ministry of Magic, handpicked by Professor Umbridge. Anyway, members of the Inquisitorial Squad _do_ have the power to dock points… so, Granger, I’ll have five from you for being rude about our new headmistress… Macmillan, five for contradicting me… Five because I don’t like you, Potter… Weasley, your shirt’s untucked, so I’ll have five for that… I don’t like you either, Smith, so five from you… Oh, yeah, I forgot, you’re a Mudblood, Granger, so ten for that…” Ron pulled out his wand, but Hermione pushed it away, whispering, “Don’t!”

“Wise move, Granger,” breathed Draco, “New Head, new times… Be good now, Potty… Weasel King…” He strode away, laughing heartily with Crabbe and Goyle.

“He was bluffing,” said Ernie, looking appalled. “He can’t be allowed to dock points… that would be ridiculous… It would completely undermine the prefect system…” But the Doctor, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Jack all turned to the giant hourglass set in niches along the wall behind them which recorded the house points. Gryffindor and Ravenclaw had been neck and neck in the lead that morning. Even as they watched, stones flew upward, reducing the amounts in the lower bulbs. In fact, the only glass that seemed unchanged was the emerald-filled one of Slytherin.

“Noticed, have you?” Said Fred’s voice. He and George had just come down the marble staircase and joined Harry, Ron, Hermione, the Doctor, Jack, and Ernie in front of the hourglass.

“Malfoy just docked us all about fifty points,” said Harry furiously as they watched several more stones fly upward from the Gryffindor hourglass.

“Yeah, Montague tried to do us during break,” said George.

“What do you mean, ‘tried’?” Said Ron quickly.

“He never managed to get all the words out,” said Fred, “due to the fact that we forced him headfirst into that Vanishing Cabinet on the first floor.” Hermione looked very shocked.

“But you’ll get into terrible trouble!”

“Not until Montague reappears, and that could take week, I dunno where we sent him,” said Fred coolly. “Anyway… we’ve decided we don’t care about getting into trouble anymore.”

“Have you ever?” Asked Hermione.

“‘Course we have,” said George. “Never been expelled, have we?”

“We’ve always known where to draw the line,” said Fred.

“We might have put a toe across it occasionally,” said George.

“But we’ve always stopped short of causing any real mayhem,” said Fred.

“But now?” Said Ron tentatively.

“Well, now –“ said George.

“– what with Dumbledore gone –“ said Fred.

“– we reckon a bit of mayhem –“ said George.

“– is exactly what our dear new Head deserves,” said Fred. The Doctor grinned,

“Nothing wrong with a bit of mayhem.”

“You mustn’t!” Whispered Hermione. “You really mustn’t! She’d love a reason to expel you!”

“you don’t get it, Hermione, do you?” Said Fred, smiling at her. “We don’t care about staying anymore. We’d walk out right now if we weren’t determined to do our bit for Dumbledore first. So anyway,” he checked his watch, “phase one is about to begin. I’d get in the Great Hall for lunch if I were you, that way the teachers will see you can’t have had anything to do with it.”

“Anything to do with what?” Said Hermione anxiously.

“You’ll see,” said George. “Run along, now.” Fred and George turned away and disappeared in the swelling crowd descending the stairs toward lunch. Looking highly disconcerted, Ernie muttered something about unfinished Transfiguration homework and scurried away.

“I think we _should_ get out of here, you know,” said Hermione nervously. “Just in case…”

“Yeah, all right,” said Ron, and the five of them moved toward the doors of the Great Hall, when the Doctor saw Harry got a tap on the shoulder, turning, Harry found himself face to face with the caretaker, Filch. The Doctor had never spoken directly to Filch, but he did not seem like someone who would be enjoyable to talk to.

“Potter, the headmistress would like to see you.” He leered,

“I didn’t do it,” said Harry, Filch’s jowls wobbled with silent laughter.

“Guilty conscience, eh?” He wheezed. “Follow me…” The Doctor notice a significant lack of psychic energy around Filch, but didn’t mention it. Harry followed Filch back into the entrance hall, against the tide of hungry students. The Doctor exchanged a look with Jack, Hermione, and Ron, unsure what it was about.

Lunch was pretty quiet for the first ten minutes, then, there was a loud BOOM! Eyes shot to the door to the Great Hall. With another BOOM, the large, wooden door was smashed to the ground, and dragons comprised entirely of green-and-gold sparks were soaring into the Hall. Just as Fred and George had desired, all hell broke loose. Students screamed and ran in every directions, spells exploded from wands, tables overturned. The Doctor was grinning from ear-to-ear as he dragged Ron, Hermione, and Jack out of the Hall and into the corridors. The dragons were now emitting loud fiery blasts and bangs as they went. Shocking-pink Catherine wheels five feet in diameter were whizzing lethally through the air. Rockets with long tails of brilliant silver stars were ricocheting off the walls. Sparklers were writing swear words in midair of their own accord. Firecrackers were exploding like mines everywhere and instead of burning themselves out, fading from sight, or fizzing to a halt, they seemed to be gaining in energy and momentum the longer the Doctor watched. Filch and Professor Umbridge were standing, apparently transfixed with horror, halfway down the stairs. As the Doctor pulled Jack, Ron, Hermione, and now Harry who had come running towards them, behind a corner, they watched as one of the larger Catherine wheels seemed to decide that what it needed was more room to maneuver; it whirled toward Professor Umbridge and Filch with a sinister _wheeeeeeeee._ Both adults yelled with fright and ducked and it soared straight out of the window behind them and off across the grounds. Meanwhile, several of the dragons and a large purple bat that was smoking ominously took advantage of the open door at the end of the corridor to escape toward the second floor. “Hurry, Filch, hurry!” Shrieked Professor Umbridge. “They’ll be all over the school unless we do something – _Stupefy!_ ” A jet of red light shot out of the end of her wand and hit one of the rockets. Instead of freezing in midair, it exploded with such force that it blasted a hole in a painting of a soppy-looking witch in the middle of a meadow – she ran for it just in time, reappearing seconds later squished into the painting next door, where a couple of wizards playing cards stood up hastily to make room for her. “Don’t Stun them, Filch!” Shouted Professor Umbridge angrily, for all the word as though it had been his suggestion.

“Right you are, Headmistress!” Wheezed Filch, he dashed to a nearby cupboard, pulled out a broom, and began swatting at the fireworks in midair; within seconds, the head of the broom was ablaze.

Harry grabbed the Doctor, and pulled him, followed by Hermione, Ron, and Jack to a door he knew was concealed behind a tapestry a little way along the corridor and they slipped through it to find Fred and George hiding just behind it, listening to Professor Umbridge’s and Filch’s yells and quaking with suppressed mirth.

“That was brilliant.” The Doctor grinned at the twins,

“Impressive,” Harry agreed, “Very impressive… You’ll put Dr. Filibuster out of business, no problem…"

“Cheers,” whispered George wiping tears of laughter from his face. “Oh, I hope she tries Vanishing them next… They multiply by ten every time you try…”

The fireworks continued to burn and spread all over the school that afternoon. Though they caused plenty of disruption, particularly the firecrackers, the other teachers did not seem to mind them very much. The upshot of it all was that Professor Umbridge spent her first afternoon as headmistress running all over the school answering summonses of the other teachers, none of whom seemed able to rid their rooms of the fireworks without her. When the final bell rang and the students were heading back to Gryffindor Tower with their bags, the Doctor saw a disheveled and soot-blackened Professor Umbridge tottering, sweaty-faced from Professor Flitwick’s classroom. “Thank you so much, Professor!” Said Professor Flitwick in his squeaky little voice. “I could have got rid of the sparklers myself, of course, but I wasn’t sure whether I had the _authority_ …” Beaming, he closed the classroom door in her snarling face.

Fred and George were the hero that night in the Gryffindor common room. Even Hermione fought her way through the excited crowd around home to congratulate them. “They were wonderful fireworks.” She said admiringly.

“Thanks,” said George, looking both surprised and pleased. “Weasley’s Wildfire Whiz-Bangs. Only thing is, we used our whole stock, we’re going to have to start again from scratch now…”

“It was worth it, though,” said Fred, who was taking orders from clamoring Gryffindors. “If you want to add your name to the waiting list, Hermione, it’s five Galleons for you Basic Blaze box and twenty for the Deflagration Deluxe…” The Doctor couldn’t feel any more proud of humanity than he did that day.

 

The Doctor found himself drawn to the shouting in the entrance hall after his potions session with Professor Snape. Most of the school was assembled there. It looked a lot like the night when Professor Trelawney had been sacked. Students were standing all around the walls in a great ring. Teachers and ghosts were also in the crowd. Prominent among the onlookers were members of the Inquisitorial Squad, who were all looking exceptionally pleased with themselves, and Peeves, who was bobbing overhead, gazed down upon Fred and George, who stood in the middle of the floor with the unmistakable look of two people who had just been cornered.

“So!” Said Professor Umbridge triumphantly, “So… you think it amusing to turn a school corridor into a swamp, do you?”

“Pretty amusing, yeah,” said Fred, looking back up at her without the slightest sign of fear. Filch elbowed his way closer to Professor Umbridge, looking more pleased than the Doctor had ever seen him, he was almost crying with happiness.

“I’ve got the form, Headmistress,” he said hoarsely, waving a piece of parchment. “I’ve got the form and I’ve got the whips waiting… Oh, let me do it now…” The Doctor stared at him, whipping? They were students.   
“Very good, Argus,” she said. “You two,” she went on, gazing down at Fred and George, “are about to learn what happens to wrongdoers in my school.”

“You know what?” Said Fred, “I don’t think we are.” He turned to his twin. “George,” said Fred, “I think we’ve outgrown full-time education.”

“Yeah, I’ve been feeling that way myself,” said George lightly.

“Time to test our talents in the real world, d’you reckon?” asked Fred.

“Definitely,” said George. And before Professor Umbridge could say a word, they raised their wands and said together, “ _Accio Brooms!_ ” There was a loud crash somewhere in the distance, and looking to his left, he saw Harry duck just in time – Fred and George’s broomsticks, one still trailing the heavy chain and iron peg with which Professor Umbridge must have fastened them to the wall with when she confiscated them near the beginning of the year. They were hurtling along the corridor toward their owners, they turned left, streaked down the stairs, and stopped sharply in front of the twins, the chain clattering loudly on the flagged stone floor.

“We won’t be seeing you,” Fred told Professor Umbridge, swinging his leg over his broomstick.

“Yeah, don’t bother to keep in touch,” said George, mounting his own. Fred looked around at the assembled students, and at the silent, watchful crowd.

“If anyone fancies buying a Portable Swamp, as demonstrated upstairs, come to number ninety-three, Diagon Alley – Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes,” he said in a loud voice. “Our new premises!”

“Special discounts to Hogwarts students who swear they’re going to use our products to get rid of this old bat,” added George, poting at Professor Umbridge.

“STOP THEM!” Shrieked Professor Umbridge, but it was too late. As the Inquisitorial Squad closed in, Fred and George kicked off from the floor, shooting fifteen feet in the air, the iron peg swinging dangerously below. Fred looked across the hall at the poltergeist bobbing on his level above the crowd.

“Give her hell from us, Peeves.” And Peeves, whom the Doctor had never seen take an order from a student before, swept his belled hat from his head and sprang into a salute as Fred and George wheeled about to tumultuous applause from the students below and sped out of the open front doors into the glorious sunset.


	23. Grawp

The story of Fred and George’s flight to freedom was retold so often over the next few days that the Doctor was well aware it was soon to be the stuff of Hogwarts legend. Within a week, even those who had been eyewitnesses were half-convinced that they had seen the twins dive-bomb Professor Umbridge on their brooms, pelting her with Dungbombs before zooming out of the doors. In the immediate aftermath of their departure, there was a great wave of talk about copying them, so that the Doctor frequently heard students saying things like, “Honestly, some days I feel like jumping on my broom and leaving this place,” or else, “One more lesson like that and I just might do a Weasley…”

Fred and George had made sure that nobody was likely to forget them very soon. For one thing, they had not left instructions on how to remove the swamp that now filled the corridor on the fifth floor of the east wing. Professor Umbridge and Filch had been observed trying different means of removing it but without success. Eventually, the area was roped off and Filch, gnashing his teeth furiously, was given the task of punting students across it to their classrooms. The Doctor was certain that teachers like Professor McGonagall or Professor Flitwick could have removed the swamp in an instant, but just in the case of Fred and George’s Wildfire Whiz-Bangs, they seemed to prefer to watch Professor Umbridge struggle.

Then, there were the two large broom-shaped holes in Professor Umbridge’s office door, through which Fred and George’s brooms had smashed to rejoin their masters. Filch fitted a new door and removed Harry’s broom, which she had confiscated as well, and moved it to the dungeons where, it was rumored, she had a set of an armed security troll guard it. However, her troubles were far from over.

Inspired by Fred and George’s example, a great number of students were now vying for the newly vacant positions of Troublemakers-in-Chief. In spite of the new door, somebody managed to slip a hairy-snouted niffler into Professor Umbridge’s office, which promptly tore the place apart in its search for shiny objects, leapt on Professor Umbridge on her reentrance, and tried to gnaw the rings off her stubby fingers. Dungbombs and Stinkpellets were dropped so frequently in the corridors that it became the new fashion for students to perform Bubble-Head Charms on themselves before leaving lessons, which ensured them a supply of fresh clean air, even though it gave them a peculiar appearance of wearing upside-down  goldfish bowls on their heads. Filch prowled the corridors with a horsewhip ready in his hands, desperate to catch miscreants, but the problem was that there now ere so many of them that he did not know which way to turn. The Inquisitorial Squad were attempting to help him, but odd things kept happening to its members. Cassius Warrington of the Slytherin Quidditch team reported to the hospital wing with a horrible skin complaint that made him look as though he had been coated in cornflakes. Pansy Parkinson, to Hermione’s delight, missed all her lessons the following days, as she had sprouted antlers.

Meanwhile it became clear just how many Skiving Snackboxes Fred and George had managed to sell before leaving Hogwarts. Professor Umbridge only had to enter classroom for the students assembled there to faint, vomit, develop dangerous fevers, or else spout blood from both nostrils. Shrieking with rage and frustration, she attempted to trace the mysterious symptoms to their source, but the students told her stubbornly they were suffering “Umbridge-itis.” After putting four successive classes in detention and failing to discover their secret, she was forced to give up and allow the bleeding, swooning, sweating, and vomiting students to leave her classes in droves.

But not even the users of the Snackboxes could compare with that master of chaos, Peeves, who seemed to have taken Fred’s parting words deeply to heart. Cackling madly, he soared through the school, upending tables, bursting out of blackboards, and toppling statues and vases. Twice he shut Filch’s cat, Mrs. Norris, inside suits of armor, from which she was rescued, yowling loudly, by the furious caretaker. He smashed lanterns and snuffed out candles, juggled burning torches over the heads of screaming students, caused neatly stacked piles of parchment to topple into fires or out of windows, flooded the second floor when he pulled off all the taps in the bathrooms, dropped a bag of tarantulas in the middle of the Great Hall during breakfast and, whenever he fancied a break, spent hours of time floating along after Umbridge and blowing loud raspberries every time she spoke.

None of the staff but Filch seemed to be stirring themselves to help her. Indeed, a week after Fred and George’s departure, the Doctor witnessed Professor McGonagall walking right past Peeves, who was determinedly loosening a crystal chandelier, and could have sworn he heard her tell the poltergeist out of the corner of her mout, “It unscrews the other way.”

The Doctor and Harry continued to practice Occlumency, despite the fact that Professor Snape had refused to continue to teach Harry. Harry and Hermione dragged the Doctor to the last Quidditch Match of the season. “Come on, you need to support Ron.” Hermione said, pulling the Doctor through the corridor. They found seats in the second to topmost row of the stands. It was a fine, clear day. They sat and watched, until the Doctor heard a hoarse voice in his ear, “Harry, John, Hermione…” The Doctor turned around to see Hagrid’s enormous bearded face sticking between seats; apparently he had squeezed his way all along the row behind, for the first and second years he had just passed had a ruffled, flattened look about them. For some reason, Hagrid was bent double as though anxious not to be seen, though he was still at least four feet taller than everybody else. “Listen,” He whispered, “can yeh come with me? Now? While ev’ryone’s watchin’ the match?” The Doctor jumped up, but Harry was more hesitant,

“Er… can’t it wait, Hagrid?” asked Harry, “Till the match is over?”

“No,” said Hagrid, “No, Harry, it’s gotta be now… while ev’ryone’s lookin’ the other way… Please?” Hagrid’s nose was gently dripping blood. His eyes were both blackened.

“Course,” said Harry at once, “‘course we’ll come…” Harry, Hermione, and the Doctor edged back along their row of seats, causing much grumbling among the students who had to stand up for them. The people in Hagrid’s row were not complaining, merely attempting to make themselves as small as possible.

“I ‘ppreciate this, you three, I really do,” said Hagrid as they reached the stairs. He kept looking around nervously as they descended toward the lawn below. “I jus’ hope she doesn’ notice us goin’…”

“You mean Umbridge?” said Harry. “She won’t, she’s got her whole Inquisitorial Squad sitting with her, didn’t you see? She must be expecting trouble at the match.”

“Yeah, well, a bit o’ trouble wouldn’ hurt,” said Hagrid, pausing to peer around the edge of the stands to make sure the stretch of lawn between there and his cabin was deserted. “Give us more time…

“What is it, Hagrid?” The Doctor questioned, “Where are we going?”

“Yeh – yeh’ll see in a mo’,” said Hagrid, looking over his shoulder as a great roar rose from the stands behind them. “Hey – did someone jus’ score?”

“It’ll be Ravenclaw,” said Harry heavily.

“Good… good…” said Hagrid distractedly. “Tha’s good…”

When they reached Hagrid’s cabin, Hermione turned automatically left toward the front door; Hagrid, however, walked straight past it into the shade of the trees on the outermost edge of the forest, where he picked up a crossbow that was leaning against a tree. The Doctor continued to follow, but when they turned, both Harry and Hermione had stopped walking.

“We’re goin’ in here,” he said, jerking his shaggy head behind him.

“Into the forest?” said Hermione, perplexed.

“Yeah,” said Hagrid. “C’mon now, quick, before we’re spotted!” The Doctor beckoned them, and the four of them entered the cover of the forest.

“Hagrid, why are you armed?” Harry asked,

“Jus’ a precaution,” said Hagrid, shrugging his massive shoulders.

“You didn’t bring your crossbow the day you showed our class the thestrals,” said Hermione timidly.

“Nah, well, we weren’ goin’ in so far then,” said Hagrid. “An’ anyway, tha’ was before Firenze left the forest, wasn’ it?”

“Why does Firenze leaving make a difference?” sasked Hermione curiously,

“Because centaurs aren’t very fond of wizards.” The Doctor said, “And now that Firenze has joined Professor Dumbledore, they’re not happy. Normally they would’ve killed him.” Harry and Hermione stared in horror as Hagrid nodded his large head,

“Would’ve done if I hadn’ stepped in.”

“And now they’re angry at you.” the Doctor said,

“Yes, but the trouble is, they’ve got a lot of influence in the forest… Cleverest creatures in here…”

“Is that why we’re here, Hagrid?” asked Hermione. “The centaurs?”

“Ah no,” said Hagrid, shaking his head dismissively, “no, it’s not them… Well, o’ course they could complicate the problem, yeah… but yeh’ll see what I mean in a bit…” On this incomprehensible note he fell silent and forged a little ahead. The path was becoming increasingly overgrown and the trees grew so closely together as they walked further into the forest that it was as dark as dusk.

“Hagrid?” said Harry, fighting his way through thickly knotted brambles over which Hagrid had stepped easily, “Where are we going?”

“Bit further,” said Hagrid over his shoulder. “C’mon, Harry… We need ter keep together now…”

The Doctor, having lots of experience navigating through forests, had no problems keeping up with Hagrid, but Harry and Hermione had much harder of a time. The branches and thorns snagged Harry and Hermione’s robes, frequently entangling them so severely that they had to stop for minutes at a time to free themselves. Their arms were soon covered in small cuts and scratches. “Hagrid, would it be all right if we lit our wands?” Hermione asked quietly,

“Er… all righ’,” Hagrid whispered back. “In fact…” He stopped suddenly and turned around Hermione walked right into him and was knocked over backward, Harry caught her just before she hit the forest floor. “Maybe we bes’ stop fer a momen’, so I can… fill yeh in,” said Hagrid, “Before we ge’ there, like.”

“Good!” said Hermione, as Harry set her back on her feet. The Doctor, Harry, and Hermione all lit their wands, whispering, “ _Lumos_!” and their wand tips ignited. Hagrid’s face swam through the gloom by the light of the two wavering beams, the Doctor noticed that he looked nervous and sad.

“Righ’,” said Hagrid. “Well…see…the thing is…” He took a great breath. “Well, there’s a good change I’m goin’ ter be gettin’ the sack any day now,” he said.

“But you’ve lasted this long –” Hermione said tentatively. “What makes you think –”

“Umbridge reckons it was me that put tha’ niffler in her office.”

“And was it?” asked Harry,

“No, it ruddy well wasn’!” said Hagrid indignantly. “On’y anythin’ ter do with magical creatures an’ she thinks it’s got somethin’ ter do with me. Yeh know she’s bin lookin’ fer a chance ter get rid of me ever since I got back. I don’ wan’ ter go, o’ course, but if it wasn’t fer… well… the special circumstances I’m abou’ ter explain to yeh, I’d leave righ’ now, before she’s go’ the chance ter do it in front o’ the whole school like she did with Trelawney.” Harry and Hermione both made noises of protest, but Hagrid overrode them with a wave of one of his enormous hands.

“It’s not the end o’ the world, I’ll be able ter help Dumbledore once I’m outta here, i can be useful ter the Order. An’ you lot’ll have Grubbly-Plank, yeh’ll – yeh’ll get through yer exams fine…” His voice trembled and broke.

“Don’t worry abou’ me,” he said hastily, as Hermione made to pat his arm. He pulled his enormous spotted handkerchief from the pocket of his waistcoat and mopped his eyes with it. “Look, I wouldn’ be tellin’ yer this at all if I didn’ have ter. See, if I go… well, I can’ leave withou’… withou’ tellin’ someone… because I’ll – I’ll need you three ter help me. An’ Ron, if he’s willin’.”

“Of course.” The Doctor said at once, “What do you need us to do?” Hagrid gave a great sniff and patted the Doctor wordlessly on the shoulder.

“I knew yeh’d say yes,” said Hagrid into his handkerchief, “but I won’…never…forget…Well…c’mon…jus’ a little bit further through here… Watch yerselves, now, there’s nettles…” They walked on in silence for another fifteen minutes. Suddenly, Hagrid threw out his right arm to signal that they should stop. “Really easy,” he said softly. “Very quiet now…” They crept forward and the Doctor saw that they were facing a large, smooth mound of skin, nearly as tall as Hagrid. Trees had been ripped up at the roots all around the mound, so that it stood on a bare patch of ground surrounded by heaps of trunks and boughs that formed a kind of fence or barricade, behind which the Doctor, Harry, Hermione, and Hagrid now stood.

“Sleepin’,” breathed Hagrid. The Doctor could hear the distant rhythmic rumbling that echoed. The Doctor estimated a fifteen foot tall humanoid. A giant.

“What’s his name?” The Doctor asked,

“Grawp.” Hagrid said fondly, “I’ve been teachin’ him a few manners – I’d be able ter take him outside an’ show ev’ryone he’s harmless!”

“Harmless!” said Hermione shrilly, and Hagrid made frantic hushing noises with his hands as the enormous creature before them grunted loudly and shifted in his sleep. “He’s been hurting you all this time, hasn’t he? That’s why you’ve had all these injuries!”

“He doesn’t know his own strength!” The Doctor said defensively,

“An’ he’s gettin’ better,” Hagrid added, “He’s not fightin’ so much anymore –”

“Hagrid!” Hermione said, but Hagrid cut him off,

“Hermione, I couldn’ leave him,” said Hagrid, tears now trickling down his bruised face into his beard. “See – he’s my brother!” Hermione simply stared at him, her mouth open.

“Hagrid, when you say ‘brother,’” sad Harry slowly, “do you mean –?”

“Well – half-brother,” amended Hagrid. “Turns out me mother took up with another giant when she left me dad, an’ she went an’ had Grawp here –”

“Grawp?” said Harry,

“Yeah… well, tha’s what it sounds like when he says his name,” said Hagrid anxiously. “He don’ speak a lot of English… I’ve been tryin’ ter teach him… Anyway, she don’ seem ter have liked him much more’n she liked me…See, with a giantesses, what counts is producin’ good big kids, and he’s always been a bit on the runty side fer a giant – on’y sixteen foot –”

“Oh yes, tiny!” said Hermione, with a kind of hysterical sarcasm. “Absolutely minuscule!”

“For a giant he is.” The Doctor said,

“What are the ropes for?” The Doctor asked, noticing the ropes thick as saplings stretching from around the trunks of the largest nearby trees toward the place where Grawp lay curled on the ground with his back to them.

“You have to keep him tied up?” Hermione said faintly.

“Well…yeah…” said Hagrid, looking anxious. “See – it’s like I say – he doesn’ really know his strength –”

“What do you need us to do?” The Doctor asked,

“Look after him,” said Hagrid croakily. “After I’m gone.” The Doctor smiled as Harry and Hermione exchanged miserable looks.

“He can catch his own food I presume?” The Doctor asked,

“Yeh, o’ course he can. He’s good with all that. Catches birds an’ deer an’ stuff… No, it’s company he needs. If I jus’ knew someone was carryin’ on tryin’ ter help him a bit… teachin’ him, yeh know…” The Doctor smiled,   
“I’d be happy to.” The Doctor looked at Grawp’s sleeping form.

“You want us to teach him?” Harry asked in a hollow voice.

“Yeah – even if yeh jus’ talk ter gin a bit,” said Hagrid hopefully. The Doctor grinned,

“Well, that won’t be a problem. I speak Jotun.”

“Jotun?” Hermione quirked her eyebrows,

“The language of the mountain giants of Scotland.”

“How do you –” Hermione began,

“I’m over nine hundred years old, Hermione, I’ve picked up a language or two.” The Doctor said, then noticed Hagrid staring at him,

“What’d yeh mean?”

“Oh! I haven’t told you, have I?” The Doctor smiled at him, “I’m a Time Lord, a nine hundred year old alien from the planet Gallifrey.” Hagrid just stared for a few seconds, looked down, then said quietly,

“Well, that explains a lot.” The Doctor smiled,

“I’ll take care of him.” Hagrid looked relieved, “I’ll wake him up and introduce you!” He stepped over the great trunk in front of them and was proceeding toward Grawp. When he was around ten feet away, he lifted a long, broken bough from the ground, smiled reassuringly over his shoulder at Harry and Hermione, who were not convinced that this was a good idea, and then poked Grawp hard in the middle of the back with the end of the bough. The giant gave a roar that echoed around the silent forest. Birds in the treetops overhead rose twittering from their perches and soared away. In front of Harry, Hermione, and the Doctor, meanwhile, Grawp was rising from the ground, which shuddered as he placed an enormous hand upon it to push himself onto his knees and turned his head to see who and what had disturbed him.

“All righ, Grawpy?” said Hagrid in a cheery voice, backing away with the long bough raised, ready to poke Grawp again. “Had a nice sleep eh?” The Doctor stepped forward, approaching him,

“Hello,” the Doctor held out a hand, Grawp paused, surprised,

“Hello?” He said slowly,

“Grawp, isn’t it?” The Doctor smiled as Grawp responded,

“Yes, Who you?” Just as slowly.

“I’m the Doctor.”

“Doctor?”

“Yes.” Grawp looked at the Doctor, then looked at Hagrid, then back at the Doctor.

“You take me home?” The Doctor looked at him,

“Back to the mountains?”

“Yes.” The Doctor turned to Hagrid, “You forced him out of the forest!” Hagrid looked desperately at Grawp,

“I had ter! I knew if I jus’ got him back, an’, an’ taught him, he migh’ show people that gian’s aren’ that bad.”

“Hagrid, he didn’t want to come!”

“But, I couldn’ just leave him there, they were bullyin’ him.”

“I want home!” Grawp ripped a tree out of the ground and threw it.

“Just, stay calm.” The Doctor put a hand out, “It’ll be okay.”

“Well, I reckon we ought to go back.” Hermione said nervously.

“Yeah, we’ll go back now, shall we?”

“I’ll see you soon.” The Doctor promised Grawp,

“Bye, bye, Doctor.” Grawp waved, dropping back down, shaking the ground as he sat.

Nobody spoke for a while, not even when they heard the distant crash that meant grawp had thrown another tree. “Hold it,” said Hagrid abruptly, pulling an arrow from in his quiver over his shoulder and fitted it into the crossbow. Harry and Hermione raised their wands, they heard movement close by.

“I thought that we told you, Hagrid,” said a deep male voice, “that you are no longer welcome here?” A tall centaur with a proud, high-cheekbones face and long black hair. Like Hagrid, he was armed: A quiverful of arrows and a long bow were slung over his shoulders.

“Oh, I hate weapons.” The Doctor said,

“How are yeh, Magorian?” said Harry warily. The trees behind the centaur rustled and four or five more emerged behind him. Another centaur with a black beard emerged from the forest.

“So,” he said, with a nasty inflection in his voice, before turning immediately to another centaur. “We agreed, I think, what we would do if this human showed his face in the forest again?” The Doctor stepped in front of Hagrid,

“He is under my protection.” The centaurs looked amused, reminding the Doctor of how unintimidating he looked as a child.

“Step aside, youngling.” Magorian laughed, “We do not hurt foals.”

“Oh, I’ve been around a while longer than you might think.” The Doctor said,

“Whatever do you mean, foal? Who are you?”

“I’m the Doctor.” Magorian stepped back,

“The Doctor of Gallifrey, I was told we would meet.” Magorian bowed, but the Doctor waved it off,

“Oh, I hate formalities, how’ve the herd been? Everyone doing well?”

“The herd has been well, Doctor. Your generosity has benefited us for generations.”

“Good, good, now, if you don’t mind, my friends and I would just like to pass through.”

“Hagrid is a friend of yours?”

“Yes, he is.” Magorian nodded,

“Very well, he may pass. Farewell, Doctor, you are most welcome in our forest.” With that, the six centaurs bowed and left.

“How did yeh manage to befriend ‘em?” Hagrid asked, stunned,

“I saved their species from a disease that was killing all their women a few hundred years ago.”

“Oh.”

At last, Harry, Hermione, and the Doctor rejoined the path and after another ten minutes, the trees began to thin. They were able to see patches of clear blue sky again and hear, in the distance, the definite sounds of cheering and shouting. “Was that another goal?” Asked Hagrid, pausing in the shelter of the trees as the Quidditch stadium came into view. “Or d’you reckon the match is over?”

“I don’t know,” said Hermione miserably, she looked much the worse for wear; her hair was full of bits of twig and leaves, her robes were ripped in several places and there were numerous scratches on her face and arms. Harry seemed to be having the same problem, running a hand across his head, trying to fix his perpetually messy hair.

“It’s over,” The Doctor said, “You can see people coming out already. If we hurry, we can blend in with the crowd and no one will know we were gone.”

“Good idea,” Hagrid said, waving them off, running up to the pitch, they joined the crowd.

“I can’t believe he brought a giant into the forest.” Hermione said, “I don’t believe him.”

 

_Weasley is our King,_

_Weasley is our King,_

_He didn’t let the Quaffle in,_

_Weasley is our King…_

 

“And I wish they’d stop singing that stupid song,” said Hermione miserably, “haven’t they gloated enough?”

 

_Weasley can save anything,_

_He never leaves a single ring,_

_That’s why Gryffindors all sing:_

_Weasley is our King._

 

“Hermione, listen to the words,” The Doctor said, Hermione gave him a quizzical look, then listened closely to the next verse,

 

_Weasley is our King,_

_Weasley is our King,_

_He didn’t let the Quaffle in,_

_Weasley is our King…_

 

“No!” said Hermione in a hushed voice,

“YES!” said Harry loudly,

“HARRY! HERMIONE! DOCTOR!” yelled Ron, waving the silver Quidditch Cup in the air and looking quite beside himself. “WE DID IT! WE WON!” The Doctor smiled, it was always the small things like this that reminded him why he liked humans so much.


	24. Out of the Fire

Ron’s euphoria at helping Gryffindor scrape the Quidditch Cup was such that he could not settle to anything next day. All he wanted to do was talk over the match, but the Doctor grabbed his shoulders, “Ron, we need to tell you something.”

“Yeah?” Hermione told the story.

The story was told in five minutes, by the end of which Ron’s indignation had been replaced by a look of total incredulity. “ _He brought one back and hid it in the forest?_ ”

“Yep,” said Harry grimly.

“No,” said Ron, as though by saying this he could make it untrue. “No, he can’t have…” then he looked at the Doctor, “And he wants you to teach him English?”

“Yep,” The Doctor said, popping the ‘p’, “But I don’t mind.”

“Okay, just don’t expect any of us to help.” Ron said bluntly,

“I know.” The Doctor said.

 

The castle grounds were gleaming in the sunlight as though freshly painted; the cloudless sky smiled at itself in the smoothly sparkling lake, the satin-green lawns ripples occasionally in the gentle breeze: June had arrived, but to the fifth years, this meant only one thing: Their O.W.L.s were upon them. After helping Harry, Ron, and Hermione, the Doctor quickly became known for his cleverness and found himself constantly surrounded by fifth year students asking for help studying.

When Harry, Ron, and Hermione were in their Astronomy O.W.L., the Doctor stared out the window, noticing six tiny but sharply defined figures walk over to Hagrid’s Cabin. Suddenly, there was a loud _BANG_ from the cabin. Hagrid’s door had burst open and by the light flooding out of the cabin, the Doctor saw him quite clearly, a massive figure roaring and dishing his fists, surrounded by the six people, all of who judging by the tiny threads of red light they were casting in his direction, seemed to attempting to Stun him. Jets of red light were flying beside Hagrid’s cabin, yet somehow they seemed to be bouncing off him. He was still upright and still fighting. Cries and yells echoed across the grounds; a man yelled, “Be reasonable, Hagrid!” and Hagrid roared,

“Reasonable be damned, yeh won’ take me like this, Dawlish!” Then, the front doors opened, and the Doctor watched as light spilled out into the dark lawn and a single long black shadow was now rippling across the lawn.

“How dare you!” The figure shouted, and the Doctor immediately recognized the voice as that of Professor McGonagall. “Leave him alone! _Alone_ , I say!” said Professor McGonagall through the darkness. “On what grounds are you attacking him? He has done nothing, nothing to warrant such –” Suddenly, no less than four Stunners had shot from the figures around the cabin toward Professor McGonagall. Halfway between cabin and castle, the red beams collided with her. For a moment she looked luminous, illuminated by an eerie red glow, then was lifted right off her feet, landed hard on her back, and moved no more.

“COWARDS!” Bellowed Hagrid, “RUDDY COWARDS! HAVE SOME O’ THAT – AN’ THAT –” Hagrid took two massive swipes at his closest attackers; judging by their immediate collapse they had been knocked out cold. The Doctor saw him double over, but the next moment, he was standing again.

“Get him, get him!” screamed Professor Umbridge, but her remaining helper seemed highly reluctant to go within reach of Hagrid’s fists. Indeed, he was backing away so fast he tripped over one of his unconscious colleagues and fell over. Hagrid had turned and began to run; Professor Umbridge sent one last Stunning Spell after him but it missed, and Hagrid, running full-pelt toward the distant gates, disappeared into the darkness.

The Doctor met Harry, Ron, and Hermione in the Gryffindor Common Room, as the three fifth years had been in their Astronomy O.W.L., it seemed many other students had been woken by the events of that night. “That evil woman!” gasped Hermione, who seemed to be having difficulty talking due to rage. “Trying to sneak up on Hagrid in the dead of night!”

“She clearly wanted to avoid another scene like Professor Trelawney’s,” The Doctor said thoughtfully,

“Hagrid did well, didn’t he?” said Ron, who looked more alarmed than impressed. “How come all the spells bounced off him?”

“Giants have considerable spell resistance, Hagrid, being a half-giant, has a natural resistance to certain spells.” The Doctor explained, “But Professor McGonagall doesn’t have that advantage.” The Doctor said, now concerned about the professor, “Four Stunners straight in the chest…”

“And she’s not exactly young, is she?” Hermione nodded.

“At least they didn’t get to take Hagrid to Azkaban,” said Ron. “I ‘spect he’s gone to join Dumbledore, hasn’t he?”

“I suppose so,” said Hermione, who looked tearful. “Oh, this is awful, I really thought Dumbledore would be back before long, but now we’ve lost Hagrid too…”

“And McGonagall.” The Doctor added, “She’ll be out of commission for a while.”

“But why sack Hagrid now?” Angelina asked, walking over to them, shaking her head. “It’s not like Trelawney, he’s been teaching much better than usual this year!”

“She doesn’t like part-humans.” The Doctor said, running a hand through his hair, “She was always going to try to get him out…”

“And she thought Hagrid was putting nifflers in her office,” piped up Katie Bell,

“Oh blimey,” said Lee Jordan, covering his mouth. “It’s me’s been putting nifflers in her office, Fred and George left me a couple, I’ve been levitating them through her window…”

“She’d have sacked him anyway,” said Dean, “He was too close to Dumbledore.”  
“That’s true,” said Harry, sinking into an armchair beside Hermione’s.

“I just hope Professor McGonagall’s alright,” said Lavender tearfully.

“They carried her back up to the castle, we watched through the dormitory window,” said Colin Creevey. “She didn’t look very well…”

Harry came running into the Common Room the next afternoon as Jack and the Doctor were talking, “Sirius!” He exclaimed, “Voldemort’s got Sirius!” The Doctor jumped up as he explained, “In a dream, I fell asleep in my exam, he was being tortured… Says he’ll end by killing him…” The Doctor grabbed Harry and led him to a chair, as his legs were shaking. “How’re we going to get there?” He asked,

“We can’t take the TARDIS,” The Doctor said, “In the state I’m in, I can’t fly it.”

“Wait, what do you mean get there?” Hermione asked,

“To save Sirius of course.” Jack said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world,

“But, Harry, Jack, Doctor…” Ron said weakly, “We don’t even know where he is.”

“The Department of Mysteries.”

“Er… how… how did Voldemort get into the Ministry of Magic without anybody realizing he was there?” Hermione asked,

“Look, we know he’s there, we just need to get there, now, you can come, or you can stay, it’s your choice, but we’re going to save Sirius.” Hermione and Ron seemed to consider this for a minute,

“But, they’re only dreams…” Hermione said,

“They’re not dreams, they’re a direct connection into Voldemort’s head, now, it’s your choice, come or stay.” Hermione and Ron exchanged a look,

“We need proof.” Hermione said finally, “Please, let’s just check that Sirius isn’t at home before we go charging off to London – if we find out he’s not there then I want to help, be we have to be sure this isn’t a trick.” The Doctor nodded,

“Brilliant, now all we’ve got to do is break into Professor Umbridge’s office and use her network.”

“What? How are we supposed to do that?” Ron asked, but suddenly the portrait hole opened and Ginny and Luna came walking in, holding one of Fred and George’s infamous Extendable Ears. They had been listening to the whole conversation.

“I think we can help.” The Doctor grinned,

“Oh, this is just brilliant, someone needs to distract Professor Umbridge –”

“How?” Ginny asked,

“Tell her – I don’t know – that Peeves is up to something awful as usual…” Harry suggested,

“I’ll do it,” said Ron at once. “I’ll tell her Peeves is smashing up the Transfiguration department or something, it’s miles away from her office. Come to think of it, I could probably persuade Peeves to do it if I met him on the way…”

“Brilliant, we just need to keep students away as well.” The Doctor said,

“Luna and I can stand at either end of the corridor,” said Ginny promptly, “and warn people not to go down there because someone’s let off a load of Garroting Gas.” The Doctor grinned widely,

“Brilliant, Jack and I can use a perception filter, and Harry and Hermione can go into the office under the Invisibility Cloak.” The Doctor jumped up, digging around in his pockets until he found two perception filters, handing one to Jack. “Allons-y!”

The Doctor, Jack, Hermione, and Harry approached Professor Umbridge’s office door, a room the Doctor was all too familiar with. The news of the gas had already gotten around, so there was no one to witness the four of them slip in with the help of the Doctor’s Sonic Screwdriver. “What’s the signal?” muttered Harry, as they approached the fireplace,

“A loud chorus of ‘Weasley Is Our King’ if they see Umbridge coming,” Hermione replied with a smile. Harry seized the pot of Floo powder, the Doctor felt some psychic energy flicker in his head, something was wrong, something was very wrong, the his of Harry’s voice as he ordered the Floo network interrupted his thoughts,

“Number twelve, Grimmauld Place!” When the fire opened but no one was there, he called out, “Sirius? Sirius, are you there?” There was a tiny scuffling sound to the right of the fire. “Who’s there?” Harry called, when Kreacher’s head stuck through the fire,

“It’s the Potter boy’s head in the fire,” Kreacher informed the empty kitchen, “What has he come for, Kreacher wonders?”

“Where’s Sirius, Kreacher?” Harry demanded. The house-elf gave a wheezy chuckle. “Master has gone out, Harry Potter.”

“Where’s he gone?” The Doctor demanded, “Has he gone to the Department of Mysteries?” Kreacher stopped dead in his tracks,

“Master does not tell poor Kreacher where he is going,” said the elf quietly. The Doctor looked at the elf,  
“But you’re clever, Kreacher, cleverer than many give you credit for, and I know you know, so tell me, where is he?” There was a moment’s silence, then the elf let out a loud cackle,

“Master will not come back from the Department of Mysteries!” He said gleefully. “Kreacher and his Mistress are alone again!” Before the Doctor or Harry could say anything, there was a great pain at the top of their heads and they were dragged out of the flames, the Doctor pulled away to find himself face to face with none other than Professor Umbridge.

“You think,” she whispered, “that after two nifflers I was going to let one more foul, scavenging little creature enter my office without my knowledge? I had Stealth Sensoring Spells placed all around my doorway after the last one got in, you foolish boys. Take their wands.” The Doctor groaned, that’s what he’d felt in entering the office. Four Slytherins grabbed the Doctor, Harry, Jack, and Hermione’s wands. “I want to know why you four are in my office,” she said,

“I was – trying to get my broomstick!” Harry croaked.

“Liar,” She shook her head, “Your broomstick is under strict guard in the dungeons, as you very well know, Potter. The two of you had your heads in my fire. With whom have you been communicating?” THere was a commotion outside, and several large Slytherins entered, each gripping Ron, Ginny, Luna, and to the Doctor’s confusion, Neville. All four of them had been gagged.

“Got ‘em all,” said Warrington, shoving Ron roughly forward into the room. “ _That_ one,” he poked a thick finger at Neville, “tried to stop me taking _her_ ,” he pointed at Ginny, who was trying to kick the shins of the large Slytherin girl holding her, “so I brought him along too.”

“Good, good,” said Professor Umbridge, watching Ginny’s struggles. “Well, it looks as though Hogwarts will shortly be a Weasley-free zone, doesn’t it?” Draco laughed loudly and sycophantically. Professor Umbridge gave her wide, complacent smile and settled herself into a chintz-covered armchair, blinking up at her captives. “So, Potter, John, you stationed lookouts around my office and you sent this buffoon,” she nodded at Ron, and Draco laughed even louder, “to tell me the poltergeist was wreaking havoc in the Transfiguration department when I knew perfectly well that he was busy smearing ink on the eyepieces of all the school telescopes, Mr. Filch having just informed me so. Clearly it was very important for you two to talk to somebody. Was it Albus Dumbledore? Or the half-breed, Hagrid? I doubt it was Minerva McGonagall, I hear she is still too ill to talk to anyone…” The Doctor jumped up, opening his mouth to talk, but Professor Umbridge silenced him with the flick of her wand,

“No, no, no, I’m aware you are a talker, I want Potter’s response.”

“It’s none of your business who I talk to.” Harry snarled. Professor Umbridge’s slack face seemed to tighten.

“Very well, Mr. Potter… I offered you the chance to tell me freely. You refused. I have no alternative but to force you. Draco – fetch Professor Snape.” Draco left the room. THere was silence in the office, silence the Doctor would have been happy to fill had his mouth not been restricted.

Finally, Draco returned with Professor Snape. “You wanted to see me, Headmistress?” said Professor Snape, looking around at all the pairs of struggling students with an expression of complete indifference.

“Ah, Professor Snape,” said Professor Umbridge, smiling widely and standing up again. “Yes, I would like another bottle of Veritaserum, as quick as you can, please.”

“You took my last bottle to interrogate Potter,” he said, observing her coolly through his greasy curtains of black hair. “Surely you did not use it all? I told you that three drops would be sufficient.” Professor Umbridge flushed.

“You can make some more, can’t you?” she said, her voice becoming more sweetly girlish as it always did when she was furious.

“Certainly,” said Professor Snape, his lip curling. “It takes a full moon cycle to mature, so I should have it ready for you in around a month.”

“A month?” squawked Professor Umbridge, “A _month_? But I need it this evening, Snape! I have just found Potter and Smith using my fire to communicate with a person or persons unknown!”

“Really?” said Professor Snape,, showing his first, faint sign of interest as he looked around at the Doctor and Harry. “Well, it doesn’t surprise me. Potter has never shown much inclination to follow school rules.” His cold, dark eyes were boring into Harry’s who seemed to be meeting his gaze.

“I wish to interrogate him!” Shouted Professor Umbridge angrily, and Professor Snape looked away from Harry and the Doctor over to her. “I wish to you to provide me with a potion that will force him to tell me the truth!”

“I have already told you,” said Professor Snape smoothly, “that I have no further stocks of Veritaserum. Unless you wish to poison Potter – and I assure you I would have the greatest sympathy with you if you did – I cannot help you. The only trouble is that most venoms act too fast to give the victim much time for truth-telling. Suddenly, something in the Doctor’s head clicked, Professor Snape was a part of the Order of the Phoenix. The Doctor caught Harry’s eye, gesturing with his head at the Potions Master. Harry furrowed his eyebrows, until suddenly, he caught on,

“He’s got Padfoot!” Harry shouted. “He’s got Padfoot at the place where it’s hidden!” Professor Snape had stopped with his hand on Professor Umbridge’s door handle.

“Padfoot?” cried Professor Umbridge, looking eagerly from Harry to Professor Snape, “What is Padfoot? Where what is hidden? What does he mean, Snape?” Professor Snape looked around at Harry. His face was inscrutable, the Doctor could not tell whether he had understood or not,

“I have no idea,” said Professor Snape, but the Doctor noticed a small glint in his eye. He got the message. He would most likely be informing the Order at any moment now. Professor Snape shut the door and Professor Umbridge’s chest was heaving with rage and frustration.

“Very well,” she said, and she pulled out her wand, “Perhaps this will give you some incentive.” She turned to the Doctor and pointed her wand at him, “ _Crucio!_ ” The Doctor felt the searing pain tear through his body. He would have screamed, but the speak still confined him to silence. He could hear the screams of protest from Jack, Hermione, Harry, Ron, Luna, Ginny, and Neville.

“Stop it!” Hermione shouted, “Stop it! That’s illegal!”

“What Cornelius doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” said Professor Umbridge, intensifying the spell, “He never knew I ordered dementors after Potter last summer, but he was delighted to be given the chance to expel him, all the same…”

“It was _you_?” Gasped Harry as Professor Umbridge released the curse, leaving the Doctor gasping for breath on the ground,

“ _Somebody_ had to act,” she breathed, “They were all bleating about silencing you somehow – discrediting you – but I was the one who actually _did_ something about it… Only you wriggled out of that one, didn’t you, Potter? Not today, though, not now…” Grinning at the Doctor, she shouted again, “ _Crucio!_ ”

“STOP!” Hermione cried, “Harry, we have to tell her!” Immediately, Professor Umbridge let off the spell,

“No!” The Doctor mouthed, but Hermione ignored his silent voice. Harry looked conflicted,

“I’m sorry, everyone,” said Hermione, “But – I can’t stand it –”

“That’s right, that’s right, girl!” said Professor Umbridge, seizing Hermione by the shoulders, thrusting her into the abandoned chintz chair and leaning over her. “Now then… with whom was Potter and Smith communicating just now?”

“Well,” gulped Hermione into her hands, “well, they were _trying_ to speak to Professor Dumbledore…” Ron froze, his eyes wide; Ginny stopped trying to stamp on her Slytherin captor’s toes; even Luna looked mildly surprised. Fortunately, the attention of Professor Umbridge and her minions was focused too excessively upon Hermione to notice these suspicious signs. The Doctor grinned; Hermione was good.

“Dumbledore?” said Professor Umbridge eagerly. “You know where Dumbledore is, then?”

“Well… no!” sobbed Hermione. “We’ve tried the Leaky Cauldron in Diagon alley and he Three Broomsticks and even the Hog’s Head –”

“Idiot girl, Dumbledore won’t be sitting in a pub when the whole Ministry’s looking for him!” shouted Professor Umbridge, disappointment etched in every sagging line of her face.

“But – but we needed to tell him something important!” wailed Hermione, holding her hands more tightly over her face, not, the Doctor knew, out of anguish, but to disguise the continued absence of tears.

“Yes?” said Professor Umbridge with a sudden resurgence of excitement. “What was it you wanted to tell him?”

“We… we wanted to tell him it’s r-ready!” choked Hermione.

“What’s ready?” demanded Professor Umbridge, and now she grabbed Hermione’s shoulders again and shook her slightly. “What’s ready, girl?”

“The… the weapon,” said Hermione.

“Weapon? Weapon?” said Professor Umbridge, and her eyes seemed to pop with excitement. “You have been developing some method of resistance? A weapon you could use against the Ministry? On Professor Dumbledore’s orders, of course?”

“Y-y-yes,” gasped Hermione. “But he had to leave before it was finished and n-n-now we’ve finished it for him, and we c-c-can’t find him t-t-to tell him!”

“What kind of weapon is it?” said Professor Umbridge harshly, her stubby hands still tight on Hermione’s shoulders.

“We don’t r-r-really understand it,” said Hermione, sniffing loudly. “We j-j-just did what P-P-Professor Dumbledore told us t-t-to do…” Professor Umbridge straightened up, looking exultant. “Lead me to the weapon,” she said.

“I’m not showing… _them_ ,” said Hermione shrilly, looking around at the Slytherins through her fingers.

“It is not up for you to set conditions,” said Professor Umbridge harshly.

“Fine,” said Hermione, now sobbing into  her hands again, “fine… let them see it, I hope they use it on you! In fact, I wish you’d invite loads and loads of people to come and see! Th-that would serve you right – oh I’d love it if the wh-whole school knew where it was, and how to u-use it, and then if you annoy any of them they’ll be able to s-sort you out!” These words had a powerful impact on Professor Umbridge. She glanced up swiftly and suspiciously around at her Inquisitorial Squad, her bulging eyes resting for a moment on Draco, who was too slow to disguise the look of eagerness and greed that had appeared on his face. Professor Umbridge contemplated Hermione for another long moment and then spoke in what she clearly thought was a motherly voice. “All right, dear, let’s make it just you and me… and we’ll take Potter too, shall we? Get up now –”

“Professor, I really think the Doc– I mean John should come with us.”

“And why is that, now?” Professor Umbridge asked,

“Well, he was the whole brains of the project, he’s the only one who really knows how it works.”

“Very well,” Professor Umbridge agreed, “He will come too.”

“Professor,” said Draco eagerly, “Professor Umbridge, I think some of the squad should come with you to look after –”

“I am a fully qualified Ministry official, Malfoy, do you really think I cannot manage three wandless teenagers alone?” asked Professor Umbridge sharply. “In any case, it does not sound as though a weapon is something that schoolchildren should see. You will remain here until I return and make sure none of these” – she gestured around at Ron, Jack, Ginny, Neville, and Luna – “escape.”

“All right,” said Draco, looking sulky and disappointed.

“And you three can go ahead of me and show me the way,” said Professor Umbridge, pointing at Harry, Hermione, and the Doctor with her wand. “Lead on…”


	25. Fight and Flight

The Doctor had no idea what Hermione was planning, or if she had a plan. Both he and Harry walked half a pace behind her as they headed down the corridor outside Professor Umbridge’s office, knowing it would look very suspicious if they appeared not to know where they were going. The Doctor wondered when the spell restricting his mouth would wear off, if it ever would. Once he got his wand back he’d have no trouble fixing it, but for now, he was forced to stay silent. Hermione led the way down the stairs into the entrance hall. The din of loud voices and the clatter of cutlery on plates schoed from out of the double doors of the Great Hall. Hermione walked straight out of the oak front doors and down the stone steps into the balmy evening air. The sun was falling toward the tops of the trees in the Forbidden Forest now as Hermione marched purposefully across the grass, Professor Umbridge jogging to keep up. Their long dark shadows rippled over the grass behind them like cloaks. “It’s hidden in Hagrid’s hut, is it?” said Professor Umbridge eagerly.

“Of course not,” said Hermione scathingly. “Hagrid might have set it off accidently.”

“Yes,” said Professor Umbridge, whose excitement seemed to be mounting. “Yes, he would have done, of course, the great half-breed oaf…” She laughed. The Doctor bristled. “Then… where is it?” asked Professor Umbridge, with a hint of uncertainty in her voice as Hermione continued to stride toward the forest.

“In there, of course,” said Hermione, pointing into the dark trees. “It had to be somewhere that students weren’t going to find it accidently, didn’t it?”

“Of course… very well, then… you three stay ahead of me.” Suddenly, it clicked in the Doctor’s head, of course, the only thing they could be going to find in here was Grawp. Though, he had a better idea. Elbowing Hermione hard, the Doctor gestured to his mouth, then looked at Professor Umbridge.

“Professor, do you think you could let the Doctor speak now?” Hermione asked,

“The Doctor?” Hermione cursed,

“That’s his – er – code name. We needed to be able to identify each other without anyone know who we were talking about.”

“Yes, of course, but why should I let him speak?”

“Well, he spent the most time on the weapon, and he always led us here, I’m not exactly sure the path.” Hermione lied,

“Yes, yes, very well.” With the flick of her wand, Professor Umbridge released the spell, the Doctor grinned,

“Brilliant.” He now lead the way, his superior vision seriously helping them in the night.

“Is it very far in?” Professor Umbridge asked as they quickened their pace,

“Oh yes,” said Hermione. “Yes, it’s well hidden.” The Doctor began to whistle, but not for enjoyment, he was well aware of the creatures in the area, and he sent a signal. It was, in no way, a form of communication, but it was enough noise for the acute creatures’ ears to pick up on the sound and come to their aid.

“Why are you whistling?” Professor Umbridge demanded,

“You never whistle? Just for fun? –”

“Don’t make me curse you again.” The Doctor fell silent.

The continued to walk for a few minutes, when an arrow flew through the air and landed with a menacing thud in the tree just over Professor Umbridge’s head. The air was suddenly full of the sound of hooves. The Doctor could feel the forest floor trembling; Professor Umbridge gave a little scream and pushed Harry forward like a shield. Around fifty centaurs were emerging on every side, their bows raised and loaded, pointing at Harry, Hermione, and Umbridge, Magorian approached the Doctor, “I welcome you back to our forest, Doctor, we have heard your calls of distress.” Before the Doctor could answer, Professor Umbridge said,

“I am Dolores Umbridge!” said Professor Umbridge, “Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic and Headmistress and High Inquisitor of Hogwarts and I demand you leave.”

“You are from the Ministry of Magic?” said Magorian, as many of the centaurs in the surrounding circle shifted restlessly.

“That’s right!” said Professor Umbridge in an even higher voice. “So be very careful! By the laws laid down by the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, any attack by half-breeds such as yourselves on a human –”

“ _What_ did you call us?” shouted a wild-looking black centaur. There was a great deal of angry muttering and tightening of bowstrings around them. Still pointing her shaking wand at Magorian, she continued,

“Law Fifteen B states clearly that ‘Any attack by a magical creature who is deemed to have near-human intelligence, and therefore considered responsible for its actions –’”

“‘Near-human intelligence’?” repeated Magorian, as the others roared with rage and pawed the ground. “We consider that a great insult, human! Our intelligence, thankfully, far outstripes your own –”

“What are you doing in our forest?” bellowed the hard-faced gray centaur, “Why are you here?”

“ _Your_ forest?” said Professor Umbridge, shaking now not only with fright, but also, it seemed, with indignation. “I would remind you that you live here only because the Ministry of Magic permits you certain areas of land –” An arrow flew so close to her head that it caught at her mousy hair in passing. She let out an ear-splitting scream and threw her hands over her head while some of the centaurs bellowed their approval and others laughed raucously.

“Whose forest is it now, human?” Bellowed the wild-looking black centaur,

“Filthy half-breeds!” she screamed, her hands still right over her head. “Beasts! Uncontrolled animals!” Suddenly, Professor Umbridge pointed her wand at Magorian and screamed, “ _Incarcerous!_ ” Ropes flew out of midair like thick snakes, wrapping themselves tightly around the centaur’s torso and trapping his arms. The Doctor ran over to him, trying to remove the rope from the struggling centaur. In his peripheral vision, the Doctor saw Harry grab Hermione and pull her to the ground. The centaurs grabbed Professor Umbridge,

“Nooooo!” the professor shrieked, “Noooooo… I am Senior Undersecretary… you cannot… unhand me, you animals… nooooo!” There was a flash of light just as the Doctor managed to pull Magorian free, clearly Professor Umbridge had attempted to Stun one of the centaurs – she screamed very loudly. She had been seized from behind and lifted high into the air, wriggling and yelling with freight. Her wand fell from her hand to the ground and a centaur’s hoof descended upon the wand, breaking it cleanly in half.

“Now!” roared a voice, and the Centaurs picked the Doctor, Harry, and Hermione up, “And these?” But before anyone could answer, Magorian came to their aid,

“That is the Doctor.” The centaur holding the Doctor immediately dropped him, then bowed,

“Sorry about all that,” The Doctor said,

“Why have you returned, Doctor?” The wild-looking centaur asked,

“I needed your help.” The Doctor said, “And now we need to find a way to travel to London.”

“We were happy to come to your aid,” Magorian said, “As you have helped us in the past, but we are unaware of a transportation for you.”

“That’s alright,” The Doctor grinned, “But would you mind…” He gestured to Harry and Hermione who were still being held by two centaurs, they were immediately dropped,

“Of course, but Doctor, I must warn you, the stars have told me that your time is near over, be careful.”

“Thank you.” And with that, Harry, Hermione, and the Doctor made their way out of the forest. Just as they got to the edge of the forest, they were confronted by Ron, Jack, Ginny, Neville, and Luna.

“So, how are we going to get to London?” Jack asked as they met up,

“How’d you get away?” Hermione asked in amazement,

“Well, Jack distracted them,” Ginny said, “Then there was a couple of Stunners, a Disarming Charm, Neville brought off a really nice little Impediment Jinx,” said Ron airily, now handing back Hermione, Harry and the Doctor’s wands, “But Ginny was best, she got Malfoy – Bat-Bogey Hex – it was superb, his whole face was covered in the great flapping things. Anyway, we saw you heading into the forest out of the window and followed. What’ve you done with Umbridge?”

“She got carried away,” said Harry. “By a herd of centaurs.”

“And they left you behind?” asked Ginny, looking astonished,

“They owed me a favor.” The Doctor shrugged,

“How did you get a favor from centaurs?”

“Anyway, never mind that now,” said Ron promptly, “Anyway, Harry, Doctor, what did you find out in the fire? Has You-Know-Who got Sirius or –?”

“Yes,” said Harry, “and I’m sure Sirius is still alive, but I can’t see how we’re going to get there to help him.” The Doctor ran a hand through his messy hair, trying to think, when suddenly, Luna just said,

“Well, we’ll have to fly won’t we?”

“Okay,” said Harry irritably, rounding on her, “‘we’, aren’t doing anything if you’re including yourself in that.”

“Excuse me, but I care what happens to Sirius as much as you do!” said Ginny, her jaw set so that her resemblance to Fred and George was suddenly striking.

“You’re too –” Harry began,

“I’m three years older than you were when you fought You-Know-Who over the Sorcerer’s Stone,” she said fiercely, “and it’s because of me Malfoy’s stuck back in Umbridge’s office with giant flying bogeys attacking him –”

“Oh, all right.” The Doctor said, cutting off whatever Harry was about to say, “But that doesn’t matter if we don’t have a way to get there.”

“I thought we’d settled that?” said Luna maddeningly. “We’re flying!”

“Yes, but how?” The Doctor asked, “What are we flying on?”

“Them.” Luna pointed behind the Doctor, so he spun around and saw two thestrals,

“Oh, Luna, you’re brilliant.” The Doctor grinned,

“What is it?” Ron asked,

“Thestarls.” The Doctor said,

“Are those the mad horse things?” said Ron uncertainly, staring at the point slightly left of the thestrals, “The ones you can’t see unless you’ve watched someone snuff it?”

“Yeah,” Harry responded for the Doctor, as he approached them and began to run his hand down the creature’s back, it nestled up to him affectionately,

“How many?” Ron asked,

“Just two,” Jack responded,

“Well, we need four,” said Hermione,

“Five, Hermione,” said Ginny scowling.

“I think there are eight of us, actually,” said Luna calmly, counting.

“Don’t be stupid, we can’t all go!” said Harry angrily. “Look at you four” – he pointed at Jack, Neville, Ginny, and Luna – “you’re not involved in this, you’re not –” They burst into argument,

“QUIET!” The Doctor shouted, the group fell silent, “If they want to come, they can come. That’s final.” Harry gave a grumble but didn’t bother fight a losing battle.

“But unless we can find more thestrals, you’re not going to be able –” but the Doctor let out a loud short, high-pitched whistle.  There was a thunder of hooves, and twelve more thestrals arrived,

“Allons-y!”


	26. The Department of Mysteries

The Doctor, Jack, Harry, Luna, and Neville had no problem mounting the thestrals, as they all could see them. Through a tense discussion, he found that Luna had seen her mother die, and Neville had seen his grandfather die. Hermione, Ron, and Ginny had a harder time with the thestrals, as they couldn’t see what they were riding. The Doctor politely asked the thestrals to be still, and he helped the three Gryffindors onto their thestrals. “This is mad,” Ron said faintly as the Doctor had the thestrals take them up into the air, “Mad…”

The thestrals streaked over the castle, its wide wings hardly beating. They soared over the Hogwarts grounds, they passed Hogsmeade Village, mountains and gullies appeared below them. In the falling darkness, small collections of lights appeared in windows of houses or cars beetling their way home through the hills. Twilight fell: The sky turned to a light, dusky purple littered with tiny silver stars.

With a jolt, the thestrals heads all suddenly pointed toward the ground and the eight students went shooting towards the ground. Despite their intense speed, the thestrals touched the dark ground lightly and smoothly. The Doctor easily hopped off his thestral, as did Jack and Luna, but Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville toppled off their own the moment they touched the ground. “Never again.” Ron said, struggling to his feet. He made as though to stride away from his thestral, but, unable to see it, collided with its hindquarters and almost fell over again. “Never, ever again… that was the worst –”

“Where do we go from here?” The Doctor asked, he hadn’t gone to the Ministry of Magic before.

“Over here.” Ron said, leading them to a battered, red telephone box.

“Nothing like a phone box.” The Doctor grinned, the eight of them entered, it was an incredibly tight fit, but they managed to all make it in.

“Whoever’s nearest to the receiver, dial six two four four two!” Harry called, Ron did it, his arm bent bizarrely to reach the dial. As it whirred back into place a cool female voice sounded inside the box, “Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business.”

“Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger,” Harry began, “Ginny Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, Jack Harkness, and er, the Doctor. We’re here to save someone, unless your Ministry can do it first!”

“Thank you,” said the cool female voice. “Visitors, please take the badges and attach them to the front of your robes.” Eight badges slid out of the metal chute where returned coins usually appeared. Hermione scooped them up and handed them mutely to the Doctor over Ginny’s head; he glanced at the topmost one.

 

**THE DOCTOR**

**_Rescue Mission_ **

 

 **“** Visitor to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search and present your wand for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium.”

“Fine!” Harry said loudly, “Now can we _move_?” The floor of the telephone box shuttered and the pavement rose up past the glass windows of the telephone box. The thestrals were sliding out of sight, blackness closed over their heads, and with a dull grinding noise, they sank down into the depths of the Ministry of Magic.

A chink of soft golden light hit their feet and, widening, rose up their bodies. The Atrium seemed to be completely empty. “The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant evening,” said the woman’s voice. The door of the phone box burst open; the Doctor jumped out, followed by Jack, Luna, Harry, Neville, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny.  The only sound in the Atrium was the steady rush of water from the golden fountain, where jets from the wands of the witch and wizard, the point of the centaur’s arrow, the top of the goblin’s hat, and the house-elf’s ears continued to gush into the surrounding pool. They sprinted down the hall, Harry in the lead, past the fountain, and through the golden gates to the lifts. He pressed the nearest down button and the lift clattered into sight almost immediately, the golden grills slid apart with a great, echoing clanking, and they dashed inside. Harry stabbed the number nine button, the grills closed with a bang, and the lift began to descend, jangling and rattling. When the lift halted, the cool female voice said, “Department of Mysteries,” and the grills slid open again, they stepped out into the corridor where nothing was moving but the nearest torches, flickering in the rush of air from the lift. The Doctor turned toward the plain black door, this was it.

“Let’s go,” Harry breathed, and they made their way down the corridor, “Okay, listen,” said Harry, stopping again within six feet of the door. “Maybe… maybe a couple of people should stay here as a – as a lookout, and –”

“And how’re we going to let you know something’s coming?” asked Ginny, her eyebrows raised. “You could be miles away.”

“We’re coming with you, Harry,” said Neville,

“Come on, we can’t waste any more time.” The Doctor said, pulling the door open and marching through it. They were standing in a large, circular room. Everything in here was black, including the floor and ceiling – identical, unmarked, handle-less black doors were set at intervals all around the black walls, interspersed with branches of candles whose flames burned blue, their cool, shimmering light reflected in the shining marble floor so that it looked as though there was dark water underfoot.

“Someone shut the door,” Harry muttered, Neville obeyed, and the door closed. WIthout the long chink of light from the torch-lit corridor, the Doctor was the only one who could see more than a foot ahead of him. In front of them were around a dozen doors, Harry had froze, seemingly unsure where to go. There was a great rumbling noise and the candles began to move sideways. The circular wall was rotating. For a few seconds the blue flames around them were blurred to resemble neon lines as the wall sped around and the, quite as suddenly as it had started, the rumbling stopped and everything became stationary once again.

“What was that?” asked Ron fearfully,

“To stop us from knowing how to get back.” The Doctor said,

“Where do we go then, Harry?” Ron asked,

“I don’t –” Harry began, swallowed, then continued, “In the dreams I went through the door at the end of the corridor from the lifts into a dark room – that’s this one – and then I went through another door into a room that kind of… glitters.”

“Nowhere to go but forward.” The Doctor said, bounding forward, he pulled open a random door. The lamps hanging low on the golden chains from the ceiling of the room gave the impression that this long, rectangular room was much brighter than the room before, though there were no glittering, shimmering lights such as such Harry had mentioned. The place was quite empty except for a few desks and, in the very middle of the room, an enormous glass tank of deep-green water, big enough for all that were drifting around lazily in the liquid.

“What are those things?” Whispered Ron,

“Brains.” The Doctor said, stepping up to them, “They’re brains.”

“Why are they here?” Jack asked curiously,

“I think they’re being used to study human thought.” The Doctor said quietly, Luna stepped closer, but the Doctor held his hand out to stop her from approaching, “Don’t touch them.”

“Come on, this isn’t the right room anyway.” Ginny said, clearly uncomfortable. The Doctor jumped up and spun around, walking back out the door.

“Don’t close the door.” The Doctor warned Luna, who was the last to leave the room. Jack was the next to push through a door. This room was larger than the last, dimly lit and rectangular, and the center of it was sunken, forming a great stone put some twenty feet below them. They were standing on the topmost tier of what seemed to be stone benches running all around the room and descending in steep steps like an amphitheater. In the center, rested a raised stone dais in the center of the lowered floor, and upon this dais stood a stone archway that was cracked and crumbling. Unsupported by any surrounding wall, the archway was hung with a tattered black curtain or veil which, despite the complete stillness of the cold surrounding air, was fluttering very slightly as though it had been touched. Then, there were the voices, the faint murmuring an whispers, as if –

“Harry!” The Doctor grabbed Harry’s arm as he tried to scramble down the benches, “Don’t get near it.” The Doctor felt his hands shaking,

“Why not?” Harry asked, “What is it?”

“That’s the Veil. It’s the manifestation of the barrier between the land of the living and the land of the dead.” Harry looked confused,

“I hear voices… Hello!” He shouted, the murmering got louder, “Can’t you hear them? Hello! Who’s there?” The Doctor pulled him back again,

“No, when a living person tries to communicate, the dead try harder and it gets louder. You need to stay away from it.”

“I can hear it too.” Luna said,

“Yeah, me too.” Jack nodded,

“We need to get out of here.” The Doctor said, “NOW!” They ran out the door, the Doctor pausing at the threshold. He looked longingly at the veil, wishing he could join them, then returned to the others. Harry blindly walked up to the next door and pushed.

“ _This is it!_ ” He said at once, staring at the beautiful, dancing, diamond-sparkling light. The Doctor saw clocks gleaming from every surface, large and small, grandfather and carriage, hanging in spaces between the bookcases or standing on desks ranging the length of the room, so that a busy, relentless ticking filled the place like thousands of miniscule, marching footsteps. The source of the dancing, diamond-bright light was a towering crystal bell jar that stood at the far end of the room. “This way!” Harry said, leading the way forward down the narrow space between the lines of the desks, heading for the source of the light, the crystal bell jar quite as tall as the Doctor would usually be was that stood on a desk and appeared to be full of a billowing, glittering wind. Harry paused at the door, “This is it, it’s through here.” He said confidently. They exchanged glances, everyone had their wands out. Harry pushed the door, and it swung open.

They were there, they had found the place from Harry’s dreams. It was high as a church and full of nothing but towering shelves converted in small, dusty, glass orbs. They glimmered dully in the light issuing from more candle brackets set at intervals among the shelves. Like those in the circular room behind them, their flames were burning blue. The Doctor stepped forward, peering down one of the shadowy aisles between two rows of shelves. It was silent. “You said it was row ninety-seven,” whispered Hermione to Harry, who breathed,

“Yeah.” The Doctor easily navigated the rows of orbs, having had to navigate much harder.

“Right here.” The Doctor called, the entire group hurring towards him.

“He should be near here,” whispered Harry, “Anywhere here… really close…”

“Harry,” The Doctor said, “Harry, he’s not here,”

“He might be…” Harry whispered hoarsely, peering down the alley next door. “Or maybe…” He hurried to look down the one beyond that.

“He’s not here.” The Doctor whispered, “But something else is.” He peered at one of the orbs, it had Harry’s name on it. Harry walked over. In spidery writing was written a date of some sixteen years previously, and below that:

 

_S.P.T. to A.P.W.B.D._

_Dark Lord_

_And (?) Harry Potter_

  
Harry stared at it, then reached for it, “Harry, no!” The Doctor shouted, but it was too late. Harry’s hand closed around the orb. The room went silent, then, from right behind them, a drawling voice said, “Very good, Potter. Now turn around, nice and slowly, and give that to me.”


	27. Beyond the Veil

Black figures were emerging out of thin air all around them, blocking their way left and right; eyes glinted through slits in hoods, a dozen lit wand tips were pointing directly at their chests. Ginny have a gasp of horror. “To me, Potter,” repeated the drawling voice as he held out his hand, palm up,

“No.” The Doctor responded for Harry,

“Where’s Sirius?” Harry demanded. Several of the Death Eaters laughed. A harsh female voice from the midst of the shadowy figures to the Doctor’s left said triumphantly, “The Dark Lord always knows!” It was then that the Doctor realized, Sirius wasn't here. They had played with Harry’s mind,

“Always,” echoed the leader softly. “Now give me the prophecy, Potter.”

“I want to know where Sirius is!” Harry shouted,

“He’s not here.” The Doctor said softly,

“What?” Harry looked at the Doctor,

“Harry, he’s not here. He never was here.”

“Oh, you’re a clever one.” The female laughed, “So give us the prophecy.”  
“No.” The Doctor said, “Harry, don’t.”

“It’s time you learned the difference between life and dreams, Potter,” said the leader, turning back to Harry, “Now give me the prophecy, or we start using wands.”

“Go on, then,” said Harry, raising his own wand to chest height. As he did so, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, Luna, Jack, and the Doctor all raised their own wands, but the Death Eaters did not strike.

“Hand over the prophecy and no one need get hurt,” the leader said coolly. Harry then laughed,

“Yeah right!” he said. “I give you this – prophecy, is it? And you’ll just let us skip off home, will you?” The words were hardly out of his mouth when the female Death Eater shrieked,

“ _Accio Proph –_ ” But Harry had been ready for her. He shouted

“ _Protego!_ ” Before she had finished her spell.

“Oh, he knows how to play, little bitty baby Potter,” she said, her mad eyes staring through the slits in her hood. “Very well, then –”

“I TOLD YOU, NO!” The leader roared at the woman. “If you smash it –!” The Doctor snatched the prophecy out of Harry’s hands, but Harry put up little argument, well aware that the Doctor knew what he was doing.

“So, this prophecy, why does Voldemort need it so badly, what’s so important about it?”

“You dare speak his name?” whispered the woman,

“Oh, I dare.” The Doctor grinned mischievously, tossing the prophecy in the air and catching it with one hand, “Now, tell me what’s so important here?”

“We don’t have time for this, _Cru –_ ” The man shouted, but the Doctor beat him to it, jumping up and shouting,

“NOW!” Eight voices cried out,

“ _REDUCTO!_ ” Eight curses flew in different directions and shelves opposite them exploded as they hit. The towering structure swayed as a hundred glass spheres burst apart, pearly-white figures unfurled into the air and floated there.

“RUN!” The Doctor shouted as the shelves swayed precariously and more glass spheres began to pour from above. Chunks of shelf and shards of glass thundered down upon them. A Death Eater lunged forward through the cloud of dust and the Doctor ducked out of the way. They were all yelling, there were cries of pain, thunderous crashes as the shelves collapsed upon themselves, echoing fragments of the Seers unleashed from their spheres.

They were at the end of row ninety-seven; the Doctor turned right, leading Neville, Hermione, and Harry into the room they’d come through, slamming the door behind them, “ _Colloportus!_ ” gasped Hermione and the door sealed itself with an odd squelching noise.

“Where – where are the others?” gasped Harry, Jack, Ron, Luna, and Ginny nowhere to be seen,

“They must have gone the wrong way.” The Doctor concluded,

“What do we do?” Hermione asked, trembling from head to foot,

“Get away from this door.” The Doctor said. The four of them ran as quietly as they could, into the circular hallway at the far end of the room. They were almost there when they head something large and heavy collide with the door Hermione had charmed shut.

“Stand aside!” said a rough voice. “ _Alohomora!_ ” As the door flew open, the Doctor, Harry, Hermione, and Neville dove under the desks. They could see the bottom of the two Death Eaters’ robes drawing nearer, their feet moving rapidly. “They might’ve run straight through the hall,” said the rough voice.

“Check under the desks,” said another. The Doctor saw the knees of the Death Eaters bend, and heard Harry shout,

“ _STUPEFY!_ ” A jet of red light hit the nearest Death Eater; he fell backward onto a grandfather clock and knocked it over. The second Death Eater, however, had leapt aside to avoid Harry’s spell, but instead collided with the Doctor’s,

“ _Expelliarmus_!” The Doctor had shouted. They continued to run when they heard a shout from a room nearby, then a crash and a scream.

“RON?” Harry yelled, “GINNY? LUNA? JACK?” The Doctor pulled Harry, Hermione, and Neville into an office room. As the sound of footsteps faded, they emerged, sneaking back into the circular room. Suddenly, to their right a door sprang open and four people fell out of it. Ron, Luna, Ginny, and Jack all seemed relatively unharmed,

“We need to get out of here.” Ginny said obviously, but before they could move, another door across the hall burst open and three Death Eaters sped into the hall, led by the woman.   
“There they are!” She shrieked. Stunning Spells shot across the room: THe Doctor pushed his way through the door ahead, the other seven students following him. They were over the threshold just in time to slam the door against the woman.

“ _Colloportus!_ ” The Doctor shouted, and he heard three bodies slam into the door on the other side.

“It doesn’t matter!” said a man’s voice. “There are other ways in – WE’VE GOT THEM, THEY’RE HERE!” The Doctor spun around, they were back in the brain room and, sure enough, there were doors all around the walls. They could hear footsteps in the hall behind them as more Death Eaters came running to join the first. The eight of them tore around the room, sealing the doors as they went. Then, as the Doctor reached the very top of the room, he heard Luna cry,

“ _Collo – aaaaaaaargh…_ ” He turned in time to see her flying through the air. Five Death Eaters were surging into the room through the door she had not reached in time; Luna hit the desk, slid over its surface and onto the floor on the other side where she laid sprawled.

“Get Potter!” shrieked the woman, and she ran at Harry. Harry dodged her and sprinted with the Doctor back up the room. Suddenly, with an idea, the Doctor pulled out the prophecy, and ran as fast as he could as the woman sprinted right at him. He needed to get the Death Eaters away from the others. The Doctor pushed the next door open, ran a few feet into the new room and felt the floor vanish. He was falling down steep stone step after steep stone step, bouncing on every tier until at last, with a crash, he landed flat on his back in the sunken pit where the veil stood. He backed up, reaching the dias where the archway stood. He climbed backward onto it. The Death Eaters all halted, gazing at him. Some were panting, one was badly bleeding, a wand was pointed straight at his face.

“Your race is run,” The leader drawled, “now hand me the prophecy like a good boy…”

“Oh, I don’t think so.” The Doctor said, trying to plan his escape,

“You are in no position to decline this,” the man said, “You see, there are ten of us, and only one of you.”

“He’s not alone!” Shouted a voice from above them. “He’s still got me!” The Doctor’s heart sank,

“Neville, no! I’ll handle this!”

“ _STUPIFY!_ ” Neville shouted, pointing his wand at each Death Eater in turn, “ _STUPIFY, STUPI –_ ” One of the largest Death Eaters seized Neville from behind, pinning his arms to his sides. He struggled and kicked; several of the Death Eaters laughed.

“It’s Longbottom, isn’t it?” sneered the man, “Well, your grandmother is used to losing family members to our cause… Your death will not come as a great shock…”

“Longbottom?” Repeated the woman, and a truly evil smile lit her gaunt face. “Why, I have had the pleasure of meeting your parents, boy…” Suddenly, it clicked. This was Bellatrix Lestrange, the one who took Neville’s parents away.

“I KNOW YOU HAVE!” Roared Neville, and he fought so hard against his captor’s encircling grip that the Death Eater shouted, “Someone Stun him!”

“No, no, no,” said Bellatrix. She looked transported, alive with excitement as she glanced at the Doctor, then back at Neville. “No, let’s see how long Longbottom lasts before he cracks like his parents… Unless you want to give us the prophecy –” She turned to the Doctor,

“DON’T GIVE IT TO THEM!” Roared Neville, who seemed beside himself, kicking and writhing as Bellatrix drew nearer to him and his captor, her wand raised. “DON’T GIVE IT TO THEM!”

“ _Crucio!_ ” But the Doctor was too fast, pulling out his wand, he shouted, “ _STUPIFY!_ ” Bellatrix spun and deflected the spell, but in doing so, she dropped her attention from Neville. Suddenly, high above them, two more doors burst open and five more people sprinted into the room: Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Mad-Eye Moody, Nymphadora Tonks, and Kingsley Shacklebolt. The man turned and raised his wand, but Tonks had already sent a Stunning Spell right at him. The Doctor did not wait to see whether it had made contact, but dived off the dias out of the way, and knocking the man holding Neville off-balance so Neville could slide away. Then, a thick arm came out of nowhere, seized the Doctor around the neck, and pulled him upright, so that his toes weren’t even touching the floor.

“Give it to me.” the man growled in his ear, “Give me the prophecy –”

“NO!” The Doctor shouted, and threw the prophecy at the ground. It shattered into a million pieces. A pearly-white figure with hugely magnified eyes rose into the air. The figure dissolved into nothingness.

“NO!” the man screamed, dropping the Doctor and staring at the place where the prophecy had shattered. Suddenly, there was a gasp, and Neville whispered,

“Dumbledore!” The Doctor looked up to see that directly above them, framed in the doorway of the Brain Room, stood Albus Dumbeldore, his wand aloft, his face white and furious. Dumbledore sped down the steps and was already at the foot of the steps when the Death Eaters realized he was there. There were yells; one of he Death Eaters ran for it. Only one couple were still battling, apparently unaware of the new arrival. The Doctor saw Sirius duck Bellatrix’s jet of red light: He was laughing at her.

“Come on, you can do better than that!” he yelled, his voice echoing around the cavernous room. The second jet of light hit him squarely in the chest. The laughter had not quite died from his face, but his eyes widened in shock. It seemed to take Sirius an age to fall. His body curved in a graceful arc as he sank backward through the ragged veil hanging from the arch. He fell through the ancient doorway and disappeared behind the veil, which fluttered for a moment as though in a high wind and then fell back into place. The Doctor heard Bellatrix’s triumphant scream. The Doctor stared at where Sirius had disappeared.

“No.” He breathed, it was all his fault. He watched Harr run to the veil,

“SIRIUS!” The boy yelled, “SIRIUS!” Harry ran at the veil, but the Doctor grabbed him and pulled him back.

“Harry, please, you have to stop.”

“Get him, save him, he’s only just gone through!”

“Harry, it’s too late!”

“We can still reach him!”

“We can’t! Harry, there’s nothing we can do!”

“Please,” Harry begged through tears, “He can’t be gone.”


	28. The Only One He Ever Feared

The Doctor released his hold on Harry as he dropped to the ground in defeat. The Doctor turned to Bellatrix, who was running up the steps. He sprinted after her. The Doctor followed Bellatrix into the brain room. She aimed a curse over his shoulder. The tank rose into the air, but there was a shout of, “ _Wingardium Leviosa!_ ” and the tank flew across the room, shattering into a million pieces. Jack stood there, and with a nod, he followed the Doctor. He noticed Luna, Ginny, and Ron, all now on the ground, unconscious. He sprinted after Bellatrix who had disappeared through a door on the other side of the room – beyond her was the corridor leading back to the lifts. “ _Stupify!_ ” The Doctor shouted as Bellatrix disappeared on the lift going up. The Doctor and Jack ran into the next lift. He stepped out of the lift and, with the flick of his wand, Bellatrix came sliding into sight, summoned from across the room. The Doctor stared angrily into his eyes, “Now, you may not know who I am, but I assure you, I’m not someone you want to mess with. I have destroyed entire armies, and now you’ve messed with someone I care about.” A flicker of fear flashed across Bellatrix’s eyes. “But I think I’ll leave you to the mercy of Voldemort.” The Doctor said, dropping her to the ground, “The Prophecy is gone, I don’t think he’ll be too happy about that.”

“What do you mean, it’s gone?” She demanded, fear in her voice,

“I smashed it.” The Doctor said, “It’s gone forever.”

“LIAR!” she shrieked, but he could hear the terror behind the anger. “YOU’VE GOT IT, AND YOU WILL GIVE IT TO ME – _Accio Prophecy! ACCIO PROPHECY!_ ” The Doctor raised his arms in the air as if to show he wasn’t holding anything but his wand,

“There’s nothing to summon. It’s gone forever.”

“No!” she screamed. “It isn’t true, you’re lying – MASTER, I TRIED, I TRIED – DO NOT PUNISH ME –”

Then, there was a crack, and the Doctor spun around only to be confronted by Lord Voldemort himself. “ _Avada Kedavra!_ ” He hissed, pointing his wand at Jack, who fell to the ground. “Now, who are you? You who have thwarted my plans. The child who comes out of nowhere and whose mind I cannot penetrate.”

“Well, I’ve had a lot of practice.”

“Nomatter, you, too will die.” Suddenly, with a gasp, Jack was back on his feet, Voldemort stared at him, “How –”

But at that moment, an angry, familiar figure simply walked into the room. “Dumbledore.” Voldemort hissed and sent another jet of green light at Professor Dumbledore, who turned and was gone in a whirling of his cloak; next second he had reappeared behind Voldemort and waved his wand toward the the fountain; the statues sprang to life. The statue of the witch ran at Bellatrix, who screamed and sent spells streaming uselessly off his chest, before it dived at her, pinning her to the floor. Meanwhile, the goblin and the house-elf scuttled toward the fireplaces sat along the wall, and the one-armed centaur galloped at Voldemort and the golden centaur cantered around them both.

“It was foolish to come here tonight, Tom,” said Professor Dumbledore calmly. “The Aurors are on their way –”

“By which time I shall be gone, and you dead!” Spat Voldemort. He sent another Killing Curse at Professor Dumbledore but missed, instead hitting the security guard’s desk, which burst into flame. Professor Dumbledore flicked his own wand. The force of the spell that emanated from it was such that Voldemort was forced to conjure a shining silver shield out of thin air to deflect it. The spell caused no visible damage to the shield, though a deep, gonglike note reverberated from it, an oddly chilling sound. “You do not seek to kill me, Dumbledore?” called Voldemort, his scarlet eyes narrowed over the top of the shield. “Above such brutality, are you?”

“We both know that there are other ways of destroying a man, Tom,” said Professor Dumbledore calmly, continuing to walk toward Voldemort, “Merely taking your life would not satisfy me, I admit –”

“There is nothing worse than death, Dumbledore!” snarled Voldemort.

“You are quite wrong,” said Professor Dumbledore, still closing in upon Voldemort and speaking as lightly as though they were discussing the matter over drinks. “Indeed, your failure to understand that there are things much worse than death has always been your greatest weakness –” Another jet of green light flew from behind the silver shield. The one-armed centaur galloped in front of Professor Dumbledore and took the blast, shattering into a hundred pieces, but before the fragments had even hit the floor, Professor Dumbledore had drawn back his wand and waved it as though brandishing a whip. A long, thin flame flew from the tip; it wrapped itself around Voldemort, shield and all. For a moment, it seemed Professor Dumbledore had won, but then the fiery rope became a serpent, which relinquished its hold upon Voldemort at once and turned, hissing furiously, to face Professor Dumbledore. Voldemort vanished. The snake reared from the floor, ready to strike. There was a burst of flame in midair above Professor Dumbledore just as Voldemort reappeared, standing on the plinth in the middle of the pool where so recently the five statues had stood. One more jet of green light flew at Professor Dumbledore from Voldemort’s wand and the snake had struck. But Professor Dumbledore’s phoenix, Fawkes swooped down in front of Professor Dumbledore, opened his beak wide, and swallowed the jet of green light whole. He burst into flame and fell to the floor, small, wrinkled, and flightless. At the same moment, Professor Dumbledore brandished his wand in one, long, fluid, movement – the snake, which had been an instant from sinking his fangs into him, flew high into the air and vanished in a wisp of dark smoke; the water in the pool rose up and covered Voldemort like a cocoon of molten glass. For a few seconds, Voldemort was visible only as a dark, rippling, faceless figure, shimmering and indistinct upon the plinth, clearly struggling to throw off the suffocating mass. Then he was gone, and the water fell with a crash back into its pool, slopping wildly over the sides, drenching the polished floor.

“MASTER!” Screamed Bellatrix, Voldemort apparated, grabbed her, then disappeared. And suddenly the Atrium was full of people. The floor was reflecting emerald-green flames that had burst to life in all the fireplaces along one wall, and a stream of witches and wizards was emerging from them. As Professor Dumbledore  pulled the Doctor and Jack to their feet. A stunned-looking Cornelius Fudge was led forward by the tiny gold statues of the house-elf and the goblin.

“He was there!” shouted a scarlet-robed man with a ponytail, who was pointing at a pile of golden rubble on the other side of the hall, where Bellatrix had lain trapped moments before. “I saw him, Mr. Fudge, I swear, it was You-Know-Who, he grabbed a woman and Disapparated.”

“I know, Williamson, I know, I saw him too!” gibbered Mr. Fudge, who was wearing pajamas under his pinstriped cloak and was gasping as though he had just run miles. “Merlin’s beard – here – _here!_ – in the Ministry of Magic! – great heavens above – it doesn’t seem possible – my word – how can this be?”

“If you proceed downstairs into the Department of Mysteries, Cornelius,” said Professor Dumbledore, walking forward so that the newcomers realized he was there for the first time (a few of them raised their wands, others simply looked amazed; the statues of the elf and goblin applauded and Mr. Fudge jumped so much that his slipper-clad feet left the floor), “you will find several escaped Death Eaters contained in the Death Chamber, bound by an Anti-Disapparition Jinx and awaiting your decision as to what to do with them.”

“Dumbledore!” gasped Mr. Fudge, apparently beside himself with amazement. “You – here – I – I –” He looked wildly around at the Aurors he had brought with him, and it could not have been clearer that he was in half a mind to cry, “Seize him!”

“Cornelius, I am ready to fight your men – and win again!” said Professor Dumbledore in a thunderous voice. “But a few minutes ago you saw proof, with your own eyes, that I have been telling you the truth for a year. Lord Voldemort has returned, you have been chasing the wrong men for twelve months, and it is time you listened to sense!”

“I – don’t – well –” blustered Mr. Fudge, looking around as though hoping somebody was going to tell him what to do. When nobody did, he said, “Very well – Dawlish! Williamson! Go down to the Department of Mysteries and see… Dumbledore, you – you will need to tell me exactly – the Fountain of Magical Brethren – what happened?” he added in a kind of whimper, staring around at the floor, where the remains of the statues of which, wizard, and centaur now lay scattered.

“We can discuss that after I have sent Mr. Smith and Mr. Harkness, here back to Hogwarts.”

“Students?” Mr. Fudge spun around and stared at the Doctor and Jack. “He-here?” said Mr. Fudge, “Why – what’s all this about?”

“I shall explain everything,” repeated Professor Dumbledore, “when the students are back at school.” He walked away from the pool to the place where the golden wizard’s head lay on the floor. He pointed his wand at it and muttered, “ _Portus._ ” The head glowed blue and trembled noisily against the wooden floor for a few seconds, then became still once more.

“Now see here, Dumbledore!” said Mr. Fudge as Professor Dumbledore picked up the head and walked back to the Doctor carrying it. “You haven’t got authorization for that Portkey! You can’t do things like that right in front of the Minister of Magic, you – you –” His voice faltered as Professor Dumbledore surveyed him magisterially over his half-moon spectacles.

“You will give the order to remove Dolores Umbridge from Hogwarts,” said Professor Dumbledore. “You will tell your Aurors to stop searching for my Care of Magical Creatures teacher so that he can return to work. I will give you…” Professor Dumbledore pulled a watch with twelve hands from his pocket and glanced at it, “half an hour of my time tonight, in which I think we shall be more than able to cover the important points of what has happened here. After that, I shall need to return to my school. If you need more help from me you are, of course, more than welcome to contact me at Hogwarts. Letters addressed to the headmaster will find me.” Mr. Fudge goggled worse than ever. His mouth was open and his round face grew pinker under his rumpled gray hair.

“I – you –” Professor Dumbledore turned his back on him. “Take this Portkey.” He held out the golden head of the statue, and the Doctor placed his hand upon it, as did Jack. The Doctor felt the sensation of a hook being jerked behind his navel. The polished wooden floor was gone from beneath his feet the Atrium, Mr. Fudge, and Professor Dumbledore had all disappeared, and he was flying forward in a whirlwind of colour and sound…  



	29. The Next Adventure

The Doctor felt his feet hit solid ground again, the golden wizard’s head fell with a resounding _clunk_ to the floor. He looked around and saw that he had arrived in Professor Dumbledore’s office. The portraits of headmasters and headmistresses were snoozing in their frames, heads lolling back in armchairs or against the edge of their pictures. The silence and the stillness was broken only by the occasional grunt or snuffle of a sleeping portrait. Then, one of the pictures behind the Doctor and Jack gave a particularly loud grunting snore, and a cool voice said, “Students?” A man in a portrait labeled ‘Phineas Nigellus Black’ gave a long yawn, stretching his arms as he watched the Doctor and Jack with shrewd, narrow eyes. “What brings you here in the early hours of the morning? This office is supposed to be barred to all but the rightful headmaster. Or has Dumbledore sent you here? Oh, don’t tell me…” he gave another shuddering yawn. “Another message for my worthless great-great-grandson?” The Doctor stared the portrait in the eyes,

“Sirius Black is dead.” Phineas Nigellus froze, clearly unsure how to feel.

“I hope this means,” said the corpulent, red-nosed wizard who hung on the wall behind Professor Dumbledore’s desk, “that Dumbledore will soon be back with us?”

“Yes.” The Doctor said, he and Jack began walking to the door,

“Oh good,” said the wizard as they walked away. “It has been very dull without him, very dull indeed.”

Just as the Doctor had reached for the doorknob, the empty fireplace burst into emerald-green flame, “Not going anywhere, I hope.” The tall form of Professor Dumbledore said as he emerged from the fire, the wizards and witches on the surrounding walls jerked awake. Many of them gave cries of welcome. “Thank you,” the headmaster said softly, walking over to the perch beside the door and withdrew, from an inside pocket of his robes, the tiny, featherless Fawkes, whom he placed gently  on the tray of soft ashes beneath the golden post. “Now, I’d like to talk with Mr. Smith alone, Mr. Harkness, if you could please wait outside.” Jack nodded and stepped out of the office. “Mr. Smith, we’ve been well aware that you are something different since you first crossed those gates into the grounds. I’d like to know, who are you?”

“I’m the Doctor.”

“And I assume that’s the only answer I’ll get out of you.”  
“Yes, sir.”

“Why are you here?”

“We needed a place to stay for a year. By the end of the year, we will be on our way and you won’t have to worry about seeing us again.”

“It was a pleasure having you at our school, Doctor.” Professor Dumbledore said, “Now I would encourage you and Mr. Harkness to go to your respective dormitories and get some sleep.

 

Before the Doctor and Jack knew it, the end of school was upon them, and the two of them, followed by Harry, Ron, and Hermione reported to the Owlery. “Hey, girl.” The Doctor said, running a hand down the TARDIS, then turned back to Harry, Ron, and Hermione, “Well, we best be off.” Jack grinned and winked.

“We’ll see you again, won’t we?” Hermione asked hopefully, the Doctor gave a sad smile,

“Probably not, but it was brilliant while it lasted.”

“Good luck traveling time and space.” Harry said,

“Yeah, speaking of, how about a trip this summer.” Harry looked up at him,

“Where?”

“Anywhere.”

 

It was the middle of July, and Harry was sitting in his room, desperately trying to avoid the commotion that was the Dursleys, when from downstairs, there was a knock on the door, nothing too unusual. Aunt Petunia hurried over to open the door, and Harry almost returned to his transfiguration homework, when he heard a vaguely familiar voice say, “Hello, ma’am, I’m looking for Harry Potter.”

“What?” Aunt Petunia squealed, “S-sir, I’m sorry, you must have the wrong house –”  
“No, no, I know he’s in here. I’m here to take him off your hands for the summer.”

“R-really?” Uncle Vernon was now there,

“Yes, sir.” The man at the door said,

“Boy!” Uncle Vernon called up the stairs, “Boy! Get down here!” Harry came running down the stairs to find himself confronted with a tall man, about 6’1, with dark brown hair that stuck up into the air. He wore a large brown overcoat that ended just above the ankle, underneath, his suit was a brown pinstripe, and to top it all off, on his feet were a pair of converse sneakers. “This man’s here to take you away.” Harry’s eyes widened in shock.

“Doctor?”

The Doctor led Harry outside, where the TARDIS sat. Harry walked in, only to find another adult man, Hermione, and Ron. The man winked at him, “Jack?”

“The one and only.” The Doctor then shut the door, ran to the console flicked a switch, then gave a manic grin,

“Allons-y!”


End file.
